WANALAH 


^ 


WESTOVER    OF    WANALAH 

A  Story  of  Love  and  Life  in  Old  Virginia 


HER  RESCUER  KNEW  NOT  WHETHER   SHE  LIVED.—  Page   8. 


WESTOVER    OF 
WANALAH 

A  STORY  OF   LOVE  AND  LIFE  IN 
OLD   VIRGINIA 


BY 


GEORGE   GARY   EGGLESTON 


ILLUSTRATED  BT  EMIL  POLLAK  OTTENDORFF 


BOSTON 
LOTHROP,    LEE    &    SHEPARD    CO. 


Published,  August,  1910 


COPYRIGHT,  1910, 
BY  LOTHROP,  LEE  &  SHEPARD  Co. 

All  rights  reserved 
WESTOVER   OF  WANALAH 


BERWICK  &  SMITH  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


CONTENTS 

?TER  PAGB 

I.  PERIL  AND  PASSION                                       i 

II.  A  SONG  WITHOUT  WORDS      ...       14 

III.  THE  BEST  LAID  PLANS          ...      31 

IV.  A  WOMAN'S  WORD         .        .        .        .27 

V.  PLEASANT     DREAMS     AND     AN     UGLY 

AWAKENING 40 

VI.  OUT  OF  A  CLEAR  SKY      .        .                       50 

VII.  IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  .        .      63 

VIII.  THE  SHADOWS  FALL      ....      72 

IX.  THE  COURAGE  OF  WOMANHOOD      .        .      83 

X.  THE  PACKET  OF  PAPERS        ...      88 

XI.  THE  EVENTS  OF  A  MORNING  ...      99 

XII.     AFTER  THE  STORM 117 

XIII.  "AUNT  BETSY"  TAKES  THE  HELM     .     130 

XIV.  WESTOVER  AT   WANALAH       .         .        .     138 
XV.    UP  AT  JUDY'S 152 

XVI.  JUDY  PETERS'S  DIAGNOSIS      .        .        .161 


M575158 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVII.  JUDY    INFORMS    HERSELF   AND   MAKES 

PLANS .171 

XVIII.  JUDY  PLANS  A  CAMPAIGN     .        .        .     184 

XIX.  THE  BEGINNING  OF  A  CAMPAIGN  .        .     199 

XX.  THE  SATISFACTION  OF  W.  W.  WEBB     .    212 

XXI.     FLAGS  FLYING 227 

XXII.  AN  UNMISTAKABLE  CURE       .        .        .    239 

XXIII.  COURT  DAY      .        .        .        .        .        .254 

XXIV.  A  PERFECT  WOMAN  —  AND  A  MAN        .    266 
XXV.  THE  GREAT  RENUNCIATION     .        .        .    279 

XXVI.  MOONLIGHT  RESOLUTIONS        .        .        .     308 

XXVII.  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  JACK  TOWNS        .     316 

XXVIII.  THE  EVENTS  OF  A  DAY         .        .        .330 
XXIX.  THE  WORK  OF  A  WILD  WIND       .        .    341 

XXX.  WHAT  HAD  HAPPENED  AT  THE  OAKS    359 

XXXI.  A  SUNSET  INTERVIEW    ....    372 

XXXII.  WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  FIGHTING  CREEK      388 

XXXIII.  CONSPIRACIES 396 

XXXIV.  JUDY'S  PLANS  OF  CAMPAIGN         .        .    413 
XXXV.  A  MOUNTAIN  TOP  REVELATION      .        .    425 

XXXVI.  THE  MEETING  AT  THE  OAKS        .        .    433 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

HER     RESCUER      KNEW      NOT     WHETHER      SHE      LIVED 

(Page  8) Frontispiece 

FACING    PAGE 

"  NOW    COME    OUT    HERE,    BOYD  "  162 

WITH   THE   FIRST  ONSET  OF  THE    WIND         .  .  .      342 

"  IT    WILL    BE    BETTER,    I    THINK,    TO    ACCEPT    MY    DE- 
CISION AS  FINAL" 366 

HE   DISMOUNTED,    AND,    WITH    HIS   BRIDLE   REIN    OVER 

HIS  ARM,  JOINED  HER 374 

"MARGARET!"  .  .  .  "BOYD!"    ...  436 


Westover   of  Wanalah 
I 

PERIL   AND    PASSION 

ONE  midsummer  morning  in  the  late 
eighteen-fifties,  Boyd  Westover  of 
Wanalah  was  riding  along  a  Virginia 
plantation  road,  accompanied  by  half  a  dozen 
hounds,  for  whose  discipline  and  restraint  he 
carried  a  long,  flexible  black-snake  whip.  The 
weapon  played  the  part  of  sceptre  rather  than 
that  of  sword.  The  young  man  had  no  inten- 
tion of  striking  the  dogs  with  it,  but  whenever 
their  exuberance  broke  bounds  he  cracked  the 
lash  in  air,  making  a  report  like  that  of  a  pistol 
shot,  and  the  reminder  of  his  authority  was 
quite  sufficient  for  purposes  of  canine  disci- 
pline. 


2         WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

He  was  not  hunting.  He  was  merely  riding 
to  a  distant  part  of  the  plantation  he  controlled, 
to  inspect  the  work  of  the  negroes  there  and 
to  give  directions  for  its  proper  doing.  But  he 
liked  the  company  of  his  dogs  and  enjoyed 
their  mad  relish  of  the  morning. 

The  glory  of  it  gladdened  his  own  spirit  in 
spite  of  the  vexing  problems  that  were  never 
quite  absent  from  his  mind. 

Boyd  Westover,  a  young  man  of  not  more 
than  twenty-three  or  twenty-four  years,  had 
never  known  a  serious  care  until  the  spring  of 
that  year.  Then  a  burden  of  responsibility  had 
fallen  upon  him  that  threatened  to  bend  even 
his  broad  shoulders  beneath  its  weight. 

His  father  had  died  suddenly  in  the  early 
spring,  leaving  a  widow  and  this  one  son  who 
in  the  ordinary  course  of  affairs  became  ad- 
ministrator of  the  estate  and  master  of  the 
plantation. 

Then  it  was  that  the  burden  fell  upon  him. 
The  plantation  was  an  unusually  large  one, 
and  its  late  owner  had  been  accounted  the  rich- 
est man  in  all  the  region  round  about,  just  as 
his  forbears  for  generations  past  had  been. 


PERIL    AND    PASSION  3 

Wanalah,  the  ancestral  seat  of  the  family,  had 
been  for  two  hundred  years  the  home  of  a 
hospitable,  high  living,  high  mettled  race  of 
men  and  women,  but  during  the  reign  of  Boyd 
Westover's  father  the  hospitality  of  Wanalah 
had  outdone  itself  in  lavishness.  There  were 
always  guests  in  numbers  there,  and  a  multi- 
tude of  servants  were  withheld  from  profitable 
industry  to  minister  to  their  comfort.  There 
were  thoroughbred  horses  enough  in  the  stables 
to  mount  half  a  company  of  cavalry,  and  a  like 
profusion  was  apparent  in  the  case  of  every 
other  provision  for  enjoyment  and  the  un- 
stinted entertainment  of  guests.  In  brief  the 
late  master  of  Wanalah  had  kept  open  house 
for  all  gentlemanly  comers. 

But  when  Boyd  Westover  took  his  degree 
at  the  University  in  early  June  and  returned 
to  Wanalah  to  assume  his  duties  as  adminis- 
trator, he  learned  for  the  first  time  that  the 
plantation  had  not  been  earning  the  cost  of  all 
this  high  living.  There  was  not  only  the 
hereditary  debt  upon  the  place  —  a  debt  that 
so  great  a  plantation,  wisely  conducted,  might 
have  borne  comfortably  —  but  added  to  it  was 


4          WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

a  confused  mass  of  fresh  debts  accumulated 
during  his  father's  lifetime  and  in  consequence 
of  his  extravagance. 

The  entertainment  of  pleasure-seeking  guests 
was  suspended  now,  of  course,  during  the 
period  of  mourning,  and  in  view  of  the  ill 
health  into  which  his  mother  had  fallen  since 
the  shock  of  his  father's  sudden  death,  the  sus- 
pension seemed  likely  to  endure  for  a  long 
period  to  come. 

In  the  meantime  Boyd  Westover  was  both 
perplexed  and  appalled  by  the  magnitude  of 
the  problem  he  was  set  to  solve.  For  a  time 
he  doubted  even  the  solvency  of  the  estate,  but 
later  reckonings  had  shown  him  that  this  fear 
was  not  justified,  though  the  fact  brought  small 
relief  to  his  mind,  for  peculiar  reasons  con- 
nected with  the  character  of  the  property  itself. 
If  he  might  have  sold  out  everything,  he  could 
have  paid  off  all  the  debts,  leaving  a  small  but 
sufficient  competency  for  his  mother's  support. 
As  for  himself,  he  gave  no  thought  for  the 
future.  He  was  young,  strong  and  fit  to  meet 
fate  unarmed. 

But  he  could  not  sell  the  property  without 


PERIL    AND    PASSION  5 

unpardonable  offence  to  his  own  soul  and  to 
the  sentiment  of  the  community  which  was  to 
him  the  world.  For  by  far  the  greater  part 
of  that  property  and  altogether  the  most  sal- 
able part  of  it  consisted  of  the  negroes,  every 
one  of  whom  had  been  born  on  Wanalah  plan- 
tation as  their  parents  and  grandparents  and 
great-grandparents  had  been  before  them. 
Among  the  high  class  Virginians  —  the  class 
to  which  Boyd  Westover  belonged  by  imme- 
morial inheritance  —  it  was  held  to  be  a 
shamefully  impossible  thing  to  sell  a  negro  ex- 
cept for  incorrigible  crime,  or  for  the  purpose 
of  bringing  a  man  and  wife  together,  on  one 
plantation. 

"  I  simply  will  not  sell  the  servants,"  the 
young  man  said  to  himself  when  matters 
seemed  at  their  worst.  "  Rather  than  do  that, 
I'll  run  them  all  off  north,  set  them  free  and 
let  the  estate  fall  into  bankruptcy." 

Since  that  time  the  young  man's  close  study 
of  the  situation  had  convinced  him  that  neither 
of  these  courses  was  necessary.  By  cutting 
down  the  force  of  house  servants  to  the  mea- 
sure of  his  own  and  his  mother's  modest 


6         WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

needs,  and  putting  every  able-bodied  negro  at 
profitable  work  in  the  crops,  he  was  confident 
that  he  could  make  the  plantation  carry  its  load 
of  debt  and  slowly  reduce  it. 

That  was  now  his  task,  and  in  spite  of  the 
glory  of  the  midsummer  morning  his  mind  was 
busy  planning  ways  and  means,  when  suddenly 
a  combined  baying  from  the  hounds  arrested 
his  attention.  Looking  up  he  saw  a  young 
woman  on  horseback  in  a  pasture  not  far 
ahead  —  a  young  woman  in  difficulty  and  sore 
danger. 

Streamers  of  flaming  red  —  the  reason  for 
which  he  could  in  no  wise  guess  —  were  flying 
from  her  shoulders  and  a  maddened  bull  of 
huge  bulk  was  charging  her  with  the  fury  of 
a  bovine  demon. 

Instantly  the  young  man  plunged  the  rowels 
into  the  flanks  of  his  horse.  An  eight-rail 
fence  lay  in  his  way,  but  there  was  no  time  in 
which  to  throw  off  even  one  of  its  rails.  With- 
out a  thought  of  pause  he  urged  his  horse 
toward  it  at  the  top  of  his  speed,  determined 
to  force  him  over  it  or  through  it  as  the  case 
might  be.  The  weight  of  the  steed  and  the 


PERIL    AND    PASSION  7 

speed  at  which  he  was  moving  would  be  suffi- 
cient, Boyd  Westover  thought,  to  crush  a  way 
through  the  barrier.  It  was  likely  to  cost  the 
beautiful  animal  his  life,  but  what  of  that? 
There  was  another  life  at  stake,  in  rescue  of 
which  the  young  man  was  ready  to  sacrifice 
even  his  own  —  for  the  life  in  peril  was  that 
of  the  woman  he  loved,  the  woman  who  had 
awakened  all  the  passion,  all  the  tenderness, 
all  the  chivalry  of  his  brave  young  soul.  To 
save  her  he  would  have  doomed  any  and  every 
other  living  thing  to  cruel  death. 

The  horse  he  rode  seemed  to  realize  the 
perilous  choice  his  rider  was  forcing  upon  him 
and  to  choose  the  safer  but  far  more  difficult 
course.  Putting  forth  all  his  superb  strength 
in  utmost  endeavor,  he  cleared  the  barrier  at 
a  flying  leap. 

As  he  did  so  his  rider  saw  to  his  horror  that 
the  young  woman's  mount  had  faltered  in  her 
frightened  flight,  and  in  the  next  instant  the 
beautiful  mare  was  lifted  bodily  from  the 
ground,  impaled  upon  the  sharp  horns  of  the 
bull  and  evidently  done  to  death  by  the  goring. 
As  the  animal  fell  the  young  woman  was  hurled 


8         WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH. 

forward  half  a  dozen  yards,  and  before  the 
wrath-blinded  bull  could  gather  himself  to- 
gether for  a  charge  upon  her  prostrate  form, 
Boyd  Westover  forced  his  own  horse  between 
the  bull  and  his  victim  and  with  three  or  four 
rapid  swishes  of  the  cruel  black-snake  whip 
across  the  animal's  face  and  eyes,  sent  him 
staggering  back. 

The  delay,  as  the  young  man  knew,  would 
be  but  for  a  few  seconds,  but  these  proved  suf- 
ficient for  his  purpose.  Turning  his  horse 
toward  the  unconscious  girl,  he  hooked  his  left 
knee  around  the  cantle  of  his  saddle  and,  hang- 
ing almost  head  downwards,  seized  her  about 
the  waist.  Recovering  his  position,  he  placed 
her  across  the  horse's  withers.  The  bull  was 
almost  upon  him  now,  but  a  sharp  touch  of  the 
spurs  caused  the  horse  to  spring  forward  at 
a  full  run  in  time  to  save  himself  and  his  rid- 
ers, though  the  escape  was  so  narrow  that  one 
of  the  bull's  horns  tore  an  ugly  gash  in  the 
calf  of  Boyd  Westover's  leg. 

The  body  of  the  girl  hung  limp  across  the 
withers,  so  that  her  rescuer  knew  not  whether 
she  lived  or  had  been  killed  by  her  fall.  Until 


PERIL    AND    PASSION  9 

his  horse  cleared  the  fence  again  —  this  time 
scattering  the  upper  rails  as  he  did  so  —  there 
was  no  time  for  inquiry.  But  once  out  of  the 
field,  the  young  man  reined  in  the  frantic 
creature,  and  lifting  the  girl's  head  to  his 
shoulder,  felt  her  fluttering  breath  upon  his 
cheek. 

"  Thank  God  she  lives !  "  he  exclaimed  with 
reverent  fervor,  but  his  efforts  to  rouse  her  to 
consciousness  were  unavailing. 

"  It  may  be  only  a  faint,"  he  thought,  but 
such  fainting  as  he  had  seen  among  women  had 
been  far  less  enduring  than  this,  and  the  mem- 
ory of  that  fact  greatly  alarmed  him. 

He  reflected  that  in  any  case  the  shock  pro- 
duced by  the  dashing  of  water  into  the  face  is 
desirable  at  such  times,  and  turning  his  horse's 
head  he  rode  down  a  slope  into  a  shaded,  grass- 
carpeted  dell,  where  a  bubbling  spring  arose. 
Gently  laying  the  girl  on  the  greensward,  but 
resting  her  head  in  his  lap,  he  dashed  handfuls 
of  water  into  her  face,  with  the  result  of  arous- 
ing her  almost  at  once.  When  she  opened  her 
eyes  they  were  vacant  and  dreamy,  like  those 
of  one  only  half  awakened  from  sleep,  but  a 


io       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

few  moments  later  the  light  came  back  into 
them,  and  she  spoke. 

"Is  it  you,  Boyd?  Then  you're  not  dead, 
as  I  dreamed  you  were." 

"  Oh,  no,  I'm  not  hurt,"  he  replied  —  ignor- 
ing his  lacerated  leg  —  "  but  you  mustn't  talk 
yet.  Lie  still  till  you  feel  better."  And  with 
that  he  gently  passed  his  hand  over  her  eyes, 
closing  them. 

She  lay  quiet  for  a  minute  or  two  seemingly 
asleep,  and  he,  moved  by  a  sudden  impulse  — 
whether  of  passion  or  pity  he  knew  not  —  bent 
over  and  pressed  his  lips  to  hers  —  gently  ut- 
tering her  name  —  "  Margaret." 

Instantly  he  repented,  as  she  opened  her 
eyes  and  with  a  flushing  face  tried  to  raise  her- 
self to  a  sitting  posture,  saying  as  she  made  the 
effort. 

"  I  reckon  you  mustn't  do  that." 

But  the  effort  to  rise  was  futile.  Sharp 
pain  caused  her  to  grow  pale  again  and  she 
sank  back  as  she  had  been. 

"  Where  are  you  hurt,  Margaret  ?  "  Boyd 
asked  in  sympathetic  distress. 

"  I  don't  know ;   all  over  I  reckon." 


PERIL   AND    PASSION  n 

"  Are  any  of  your  bones  broken  ?  Feel  of 
them  and  see." 

"  I  reckon  not.  I  can't  tell.  The  pains  are 
all  over  me  —  mostly  inside.  I  reckon  I'm  go- 
ing to  faint." 

Boyd  Westover  was  now  seriously  alarmed. 
He  vaguely  remembered  hearing  of  persons 
dying  of  "  internal  injuries,"  though  exter- 
nally showing  no  hurt.  Instantly  he  lifted  the 
girl  again  and,  mounting  with  her  in  his  arms, 
set  off  at  a  gallop  toward  the  great  house  at 
Wanalah. 

The  sharp  prick  of  a  pin,  as  he  adjusted  his 
burden  on  the  withers,  attracted  his  attention 
to  the  two  flaming  red  bandana  kerchiefs, 
pinned  by  their  corners  to  Margaret's  shoul- 
ders, and  in  the  midst  of  his  apprehensions  for 
her  life  he  found  time  to  wonder  why  she  had 
dedorated  herself  in  that  extraordinary  way. 
He  was  too  full  of  anxious  concern  to  question 
her  on  so  trivial  a  matter,  but  she,  recovering 
herself,  volunteered  an  explanation,  after  ask- 
ing him  to  reduce  the  horse's  gait  to  a  walk. 

"  I  reckon  I  was  right  foolish,"  she  said, 
laughing  in  spite  of  her  pain.  "  You  see  this 


12        WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

is  one  of  old  Aunt  Sally's  birthdays.  She  has 
one  every  three  or  four  months  now,  and  she's 
rapidly  adding  to  her  ninety  years  —  a  year  at 
each  birthday.  She  was  my  Mammy  you 
know,  and  so  I  always  take  her  a  present  on 
her  birthdays." 

The  girl  paused  in  her  speech  as  some  sharp 
twinge  of  pain  changed  her  smile  into  a  gri- 
mace. It  was  only  for  a  moment,  and  she  con- 
tinued : 

"  On  her  last  birthday,  two  or  three  months 
ago,  she  told  me  I  would  some  day  be  an  angel 
with  red  wings,  and  so  when  I  set  out  this 
morning  to  take  her  these  two  turban  kerchiefs, 
the  foolish  whim  came  to  me  to  pin  them  to 
my  shoulders  and  make  red  wings  of  them." 

Again  an  access  of  severe  pain  silenced 
speech  and  she  closed  her  eyes  while  her  lips 
grew  pale.  Evidently  the  effort  to  chatter  had 
been  too  much  for  her,  and  Boyd  rightly 
guessed  that  she  had  been  forcing  herself  to 
talk  of  her  little  prank  by  way  of  preventing 
him  from  saying  more  serious  things  which 
she  did  not  wish  just  then  to  hear. 

He  in  his  turn  resolved  to  say  those  more 


PERIL    AND    PASSION  13 

serious  things  at  the  earliest  opportunity.  He 
felt  that  in  caressing  her  as  he  had  done,  down 
there  by  the  spring,  he  had  placed  himself  un- 
der a  binding  obligation  to  explain  at  the  first 
possible  opportunity,  and  the  explanation  could 
take  but  one  form  —  a  full  and  free  declaration 
of  his  yet  unspoken  passion.  This,  he  felt,  he 
had  no  right  to  delay  one  moment  longer  than 
he  must,  but  as  she  lay  still  with  closed  eyes, 
her  head  upon  his  shoulder  and  his  arm  about 
her,  he  realized  that  his  present  and  very  press- 
ing task  was  to  place  her  as  soon  as  possible 
in  the  tender  care  of  his  mother  and  her  maids. 
The  rest  must  wait. 


II 


A    SONG    WITHOUT    WORDS 

THE  physician  for  whom  Boyd  West- 
over  sent  a  young  negro  at  breakneck 
speed,  while  his  mother's  maids  were 
getting  Margaret  Conway  to  bed,  reported  that 
she  had  "  sustained  painful  contusions  "  and 
was  additionally  "  suffering  from  shock,"  but 
that  no  bones  were  broken  and,  so  far  as  he 
could  determine,  no  serious  internal  injuries 
had  befallen.  He  directed  that  she  should  re- 
main in  bed  for  a  few  days,  and  then  stay 
quietly  at  Wanalah,  without  attempting  a 
homeward  journey  until  he  should  himself  give 
permission. 

"  Above  all,"  he  said  to  Boyd,  "  she  must 
not  be  excited  in  any  way  —  pleasurably  or  the 
reverse  —  lest  hysteria  supervene." 

Boyd  smiled  a  little  over  the  medical  man's 
stilted  diction,  and  rejoiced  in  the  assurance 
14 


A  SONG  WITHOUT  WORDS       15 

of  Margaret's  safety  which  the  ponderous 
phraseology  gave  him.  But  upon  reflection  he 
chafed  a  good  deal  over  the  restraint  the  doc- 
tor's instructions  required  him  to  put  upon 
himself.  He  was  impatient  now  to  put  into 
words  the  declaration  of  love  which  his  ca- 
resses had  implied  and  promised.  He  was  still 
more  impatient  for  her  reply  to  that  declara- 
tion, for,  like  the  modest  young  lover  that  he 
was,  he  gravely  feared  his  fate  and  was  an- 
noyed by  the  necessity  of  waiting  before  put- 
ting it  to  the  test. 

Her  words,  spoken  half  consciously  when 
she  had  received  or  repelled  his  embraces  — 
for  he  could  not  determine  in  his  own  mind 
whether  she  had  meant  to  do  the  one  or  the 
other  —  in  no  wise  encouraged  his  self-confi- 
dence. He  recalled  those  words  :  —  "I  reckon 
you  mustn't  do  that  "  —  and  questioned  them 
closely  as  to  their  significance,  but  no  satisfac- 
tory answer  came.  The  utterance  might  mean 
anything  or  nothing.  And  what  did  the  sud- 
denly flushing  face  that  accompanied  it  sug- 
gest? Was  it  joy  or  sorrow,  pleasure  or  re- 
sentment that  had  sent  the  blood  to  her  cheeks 


16       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

in  that  way,  and  prompted  her  attempt  to 
escape  him  by  rising?  Wonder  as  he  might 
he  could  not  tell,  and  as  he  paced  the  colon- 
naded porch  that  night  after  all  the  house  was 
asleep,  he  succeeded  only  in  working  himself 
into  a  passionate  fury  of  impatience  and  mad- 
dening perplexity. 

He  tried  to  reason  with  himself,  only  to  find 
himself  utterly  unreasonable.  Doubtless  Mar- 
garet would  be  enjoying  the  air  in  the  porch 
within  a  few  days,  resting  and  perhaps  inter- 
estingly helpless  still.  The  attentions  he  must 
lavish  upon  her  in  that  case  promised  abundant 
opportunity  for  a  tenderness  of  care  which 
would  open  the  way  for  his  passionate  declara- 
tion. At  that  point  in  his  planning  another 
and  a  very  annoying  thought  obtruded  itself. 

"Confound  it!"  he  muttered,  "Colonel 
Conway  is  a  stickler  for  all  the  conventions  of 
our  artificial  social  life.  He  will  insist  upon 
the  idiotic  rule  that  a  young  man  mustn't  ad- 
dress a  girl  in  his  own  house  or  at  any  time 
when  she  is  under  his  protection.  What  utter 
nonsense  it  is,  anyhow !  But  I  suppose  I  must 
obey  it  or  bring  down  Colonel  Conway's  wrath 


A  SONG  WITHOUT  WORDS       17 

upon  my  head.  I  must  let  all  my  opportunities 
slip  away,  and  restrain  my  impulses  during  all 
the  time  she's  here,  making  myself  seem  to  her 
a  cold-blooded  brute  who  has  taken  advantage 
of  her  helplessness  to  force  caresses  upon  her 
and  then  doesn't  think  enough  of  her  dignity 
to  explain  himself." 

Perhaps  Boyd  Westover's  mood  was  playing 
tricks  with  his  logical  faculties.  It  is  certain 
that  if  he  had  been  asked  at  any  ordinary  time 
his  opinion  of  the  social  requirement  which 
he  now  scorned  as  an  idiotic  convention,  he 
would  have  answered  that  it  was  eminently 
right  and  reasonable,  that  it  was  imperatively 
necessary  indeed,  for  the  protection  of  the 
young  woman  in  the  case  against  the  embar- 
rassment of  having  to  accept  hospitality  or  es- 
cort or  favor  of  other  kind  from  a  man  whose 
proffer  of  love  she  has  just  rejected. 

But  who  expects  an  impatient  lover  to  be 
reasonable  —  who  that  has  ever  been  himself 
a  lover?  Reasonable  or  unreasonable,  Boyd 
Westover  felt  xhimself  bound  to  observe  the 
rule  that  imposed  so  annoying  a  restraint  upon 
him.  He  might  fret  and  fume  in  revolt  against 


1 8       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

it,  but  he  must  bend  to  the  custom.  He  re- 
solved to  wait  with  what  grace  he  could  until 
Margaret's  return  to  her  own  home.  He 
worked  out  in  his  mind  all  the  situations  that 
were  likely  to  occur  during  her  convalescence 
at  Wanalah,  and  framed  all  the  conversations 
to  fit  the  embarrassing  circumstances. 

Of  course  the  situations  that  actually  arose 
were  totally  different  from  those  he  had  im- 
agined, and  the  dialogues  he  had  rehearsed 
proved  to  be  as  unfit  for  use  as  the  text  of  a 
Greek  tragedy  would  be  on  a  modern  comedy 
stage. 

Colonel  Conway,  who  happened  to  be  in 
Richmond  when  his  daughter's  mishap  oc- 
curred, returned  at  once  and,  after  learning  the 
details,  delivered  his  thanks  and  commenda- 
tions in  a  way  that  overwhelmed  her  rescuer 
with  embarrassment.  It  was  in  vain  that 
Boyd  protested,  disclaimed  any  right  or  title 
to  the  Colonel's  extravagant  eulogies  of  his 
conduct,  and  declared  that  he  had  done  no 
more  than  any  other  man  would  have  done 
under  like  circumstances.  Colonel  Conway 
would  not  have  it  so. 


A  SONG  WITHOUT  WORDS       19 

"  You  gravely  imperilled  your  own  life, 
sir,"  he  replied  in  his  peremptory  way.  "  You 
went  to  the  rescue  of  a  damsel  in  distress  as 
only  a  gallant  knight  would  do,  with  reckless 
disregard  of  all  consequences  to  yourself. 
That's  what  I  call  heroism,  sir,  heroism  worthy 
of  the  name  you  bear  and  the  proud  race  from 
which  you  are  sprung.  Now  don't  protest, 
don't  contradict,  don't  argue,  don't  answer.  It 
is  only  your  modesty  that  shrinks  from  the 
recognition  of  your  gallantry  "  —  and  so  on 
with  what  Boyd  felt  to  be  "  damnable  itera- 
tion." 

But  when  the  old  gentleman  had  gone  back 
to  Richmond,  leaving  his  daughter  to  the  care 
of  Boyd  Westover's  mother,  the  young  man 
reflected  that  the  Colonel's  enthusiasm  would 
probably  stand  him  in  good  stead  if  ever  Mar- 
garet should  smile  upon  his  suit  and  give  him 
leave  to  ask  her  father  for  her  hand. 

Thus  in  meditations  sometimes  hopeful  and 
joyous,  sometimes  perplexed  and  desponding, 
Boyd  Westover  worried  through  the  days  until 
the  glad  morning  carne  when  Margaret  Con- 
way  rebelled  against  her  physician's  orders  and 


20       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

made  her  appearance  in  the  porch.  She  was 
still  weak  enough  and  enough  distressed  by  her 
bruises  to  be  treated  as  a  convalescent  to 
whom  solicitous  attention  was  due,  and  of 
course  Boyd  elected  himself  her  "  gentleman  in 
waiting." 

These  two,  brought  up  on  adjoining  planta- 
tions, had  known  each  other  from  their  earliest 
childhood,  but  in  later  years  they  had  seen 
little  of  each  other.  Boyd  had  been  away, 
first  at  boarding-school  and  afterwards  at  the 
University,  while  the  motherless  girl  had  been 
slowly  and  awkwardly  growing  to  woman- 
hood, under  care  of  her  aunt  and  the  tutelage 
of  an  accomplished  governess.  It  was  only 
during  vacations  that  the  two  had  met,  and 
during  the  last  two  summers  they  had  not  met 
at  all,  for  the  reason  that  Margaret,  with  her 
father,  had  been  travelling  in  the  North  and 
Canada  and  in  what  was  then  the  great  West 
during  both  those  seasons. 

It  was  with  surprise,  therefore,  not  unmixed 
with  the  awe  of  strangeness,  that  on  his  return 
from  the  University  this  year  he  had  found 
his  little  playmate  grown  into  a  beautiful  and 


A  SONG  WITHOUT  WORDS       21 

very  dignified  womanhood.  She  presided  now 
at  The  Oaks,  her  father's  plantation,  with  all 
the  gracious  ease  that  enabled  Virginia  women 
of  that  time  to  make  of  plantation  houses  de- 
lightful centres  of  unruffled  hospitality,  where 
the  coming  and  going  of  guests  was  in  no  way 
a  matter  of  previous  arrangement  and  where 
neither  the  coming  nor  the  going  created  the 
smallest  ripple  in  the  placid  self-composure  of 
the  well-ordered  life  of  the  mansion. 

So  great  was  the  change  in  her,  or  so  great 
did  it  seem  to  Boyd,  that  at  first  he  hesitated 
and  faltered  over  the  old  familiar  form  of  ad- 
dress. It  did  not  seem  possible  to  him  to  call 
this  dignified  and  almost  stately  young  woman 
"  Margaret "  as  he  had  always  called  the  little 
girl  that  she  had  been.  He  could  not  address 
her  as  "  Miss  Conway "  but  he  thought  he 
might  compromise  on  the  form  "  Miss  Mar- 
garet." The  first  time  he  addressed  her  in  that 
fashion  was  the  only  time.  She  looked  at 
him  in  dignified  surprise  for  a  moment;  then 
with  a  rippling  little  laugh  that  seemed  to  him 
singularly  charming,  she  said : 

"  If  we  have  become  such  strangers,  Boyd, 


22        WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

that  you  must  put  a  handle  to  my  name,  I'll 
give  you  all  your  honors  and  address  you  as 
'  Boyd  Westover,  Esq.,  M.  A.,  University  of 
Virginia.'  You  are  to  call  me  just '  Margaret,' 
please,  as  you've  always  done,  if  you  wish  to 
be  just  '  Boyd  '  to  me." 

As  she  spoke  the  words  all  the  winsomeness 
he  remembered  in  the  girl  came  back  again, 
but  it  did  not  dissipate  the  stately  dignity  that 
had  grown  upon  her  with  her  ripening  woman- 
hood. It  was  perhaps  at  that  moment  that  he 
fell  in  love  with  her.  Of  that  he  could  never 
be  sure,  but  he  knew  now  that  his  love  for  her 
was  the  one  supreme  passion  of  his  life.  That 
knowledge  had  come  to  him  at  the  moment 
when  he  first  realized  her  danger  out  there  in 
the  pasture.  He  recalled  now  the  impulse  that 
had  prompted  him  in  his  half  mad  determina- 
tion to  let  no  obstacle  stand  in  the  way  of  his 
reaching  her  in  time  for  rescue.  He  remem- 
bered the  horror  that  had  rended  his  very  soul 
as  he  saw  the  maddened  bull  lift  the  mare  and 
her  rider  and  fling  them  from  his  gory  horns. 
He  knew  now  that  he  had  done  and  dared  in 
those  maddening  moments,  not  with  the  hu- 


A  SONG  WITHOUT  WORDS       23 

mane  impulse  to  save  an  imperilled  life  that 
must  come  to  every  man  with  blood  in  his 
veins,  but  actuated  by  his  passionate  love's  in- 
stinct of  self-preservation. 

As  he  ministered  to  her  after  her  return  to 
the  porch,  all  these  memories  were  awakened 
in  him  by  a  certain  change  that  had  come  over 
her,  a  shyness  that  was  not  quite  reserve,  but 
yet  resembled  it.  He  was  too  little  acquainted 
with  the  ways  of  women  to  understand  this 
or  to  estimate  it  aright.  It  did  not  occur  to 
him  that  the  revelation  he  had  made  to  her  by 
his  passionate  caress  as  she  lay  half  conscious 
in  his  arms  might  explain  her  impulse  of  re- 
serve. He  was  too  scantily  versed  in  the  im- 
pulses of  womanhood  to  understand  that  after 
such  a  manifestation  of  his  love  womanly  mod- 
esty must  stand  upon  its  defence  until  such 
time  as  he  should  see  fit  to  give  more  formal 
and  definite  expression  to  his  purpose. 

Yet  to  that  caress  he  attributed  the  change. 
It  was  only  that  he  misinterpreted  its  meaning. 
The  thought  came  to  him  that  he  had  mortally 
offended  her,  that  she  resented  his  act  in  the 
only  way  possible  to  her  so  long  as  she  must 


24       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

remain  a  guest  in  his  mother's  house,  and  that 
upon  her  release  from  that  restraint  she  would 
banish  him  forever  from  her  presence  and  her 
acquaintance. 

So  severely  did  all  this  torture  him  that  on 
the  second  day  of  her  convalescence  the  impulse 
to  make  an  end  of  suspense  overcame  him, 
banishing  for  th£  moment  all  considerations  of 
prudence  and  all  regard  for  conventionalities. 
He  had  read  to  her  for  an  hour,  and  when  the 
book  was  finished,  he  observed  a  certain  rest- 
lessness on  her  part,  for  which  he  suggested 
one  or  two  remedies,  only  to  have  his  sugges- 
tions negatived.  Presently  she  said : 

"  It  is  only  that  I  need  exercise,  I  reckon. 
I  think  I'll  try  to  walk  a  little,  up  and  down  the 
porch."  She  rose  with  some  difficulty,  he  ta- 
king her  hand  in  assistance.  But  no  sooner 
was  she  on  her  feet  than  she  relaxed  her  grasp 
Upon  his  hand,  and,  as  he  did  not  relax  his 
own  so  readily,  she  seemed  to  shake  it  off. 
The  act  was  not  an  impatient  one,  but  he  mis- 
took it  for  such.  Instantly  he  faced  her,  ask- 
ing: 

"  Why  did  you  do  that,  Margaret  ?     Why 


A  SONG  WITHOUT  WORDS       25 

have  you  tried  in  every  way  to  show  me  that 
my  presence  is  disagreeable  to  you?  What 
have  I  done  to  offend  you?  Tell  me,  and  I'll 
quit  the  plantation  at  once  and  stay  away  so 
long  as  you  remain.  I  have  a  right  to  know. 
Tell  me!" 

For  answer  the  young  woman  looked  at 
him  in  silence  but  with  tear  drops  glistening 
in  her  eyes.  At  last  she  said : 

"  You  have  done  nothing  that  you  ought  not, 
I  reckon  —  nothing  to  offend  me.  Oh,  Boyd, 
I'm  not  angry  with  you  —  I  can  never  feel 
that  way.  I  owe  my  life  to  you,  but  that  isn't 
it.  I  don't  know  what  it  is.  May  be  it's  just 
because  I'm  weak  —  or  may  be  just  because." 

With  that  the  tears  released  themselves  and 
trickled  down  her  cheeks.  She  could  not  re- 
strain them  and  she  made  no  effort  to  hide 
them.  She  simply  stood  there  facing  him  and 
letting  the  honest  tears  flow  unrestrained. 

There  was  no  need  of  second  sight  to  fore- 
tell the  result.  Nothing  in  all  the  world  so 
unseats  a  man's  resolution  as  the  vision  of  the 
woman  he  loves  in  tears.  Boyd  Westover  was 
a  full-blooded  young  man  and  he  acted  after 


26       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

his  kind.  He  took  the  unresisting  girl  in  his 
arms  and  passionately  embraced  her.  Words 
on  either  side  were  unnecessary.  Love  is  quick 
to  understand.  But  the  words  came  also,  after 
a  space  —  words  of  love  beyond  recalling, 
words  of  the  kind  that  make  or  mar  human 
lives  and  set  Destiny  its  tasks. 


Ill 

A  WOMAN'S  WORD 

THOSE   were  halcyon  days  that  fol- 
lowed,   while    Margaret   lingered   at 
Wanalah.     The  barriers  were  broken 
down  now  between  these  two ;  the  vexing  sus- 
pense was  over  and  the  most  precious  certainty 
that  human  kind  can  know  had  taken  its  place. 
And  there  was  not  the  embarrassment  of 
others'  knowing.    No  word  of  their  awakened 
love  had  been  spoken,  or  could  be  spoken  until 
Margaret's  return  to  The  Oaks  should  impose 
upon  her  lover  the  duty  of  announcing  their 
understanding  to  her  father  and  invoking  his 
sanction  of  their  troth.     Until  that  time  should 
come  they  were  not  "  engaged  "  and  might 
pass  their  days  and  nights  under  one  roof  with- 
out offending  even  Virginian  propriety.     Con- 
vention had  no  claim  to  control  over  them  in 
those  blissful  intervening  days. 
27 


28       WESTOVER  OF  W  ANAL  AH 

But  the  shadow  of  it  fell  on  the  morning  of 
the  day  when  Margaret  was  to  journey  home- 
wards in  company  with  her  maid. 

"  I  will  visit  Colonel  Conway  at  The  Oaks 
to-morrow,"  Boyd  promised  as  the  pair  strolled 
through  the  garden  during  the  morning  hours 
that  alone  remained  to  them  now. 

"  I  wonder  how  he  will  receive  the  news  — 
our  news,  Margaret?  " 

"  How  he  will  receive  it?  Why,  of  course 
he  —  " 

"  He's  rather  rigid,  you  know,  in  his  views 
of  propriety,  and  I've  sinned  against  light  in 
that  respect.  You  see  I  addressed  you  in  my 
own  home,  and  not  only  so,  but  at  a  time  when 
you  were  not  able  to  run  away." 

Margaret  laughed  half  below  her  breath. 

"  That  was  very  terrible  of  course,"  she  said 
in  an  amused  tone.  "  But  I  see  a  way  out  of 
it,  Boyd." 

"  Of  course  you  do.  That's  feminine  in- 
stinct. But  tell  me  about  it." 

"  Why,  it's  simple  enough.  If  Father  finds 
fault  with  that,  you  can  take  it  all  back  and 
say  it  all  over  again  at  The  Oaks." 


A   WOMAN'S    WORD  29 

Boyd  smiled  over  the  conceit,  but  he  was  not 
reassured  by  it.  The  case  was  one  in  which 
the  least  shadow  of  uncertainty  seemed  more 
than  he  could  endure. 

"  Oh  I  forgot,"  the  girl  went  on,  teasingly; 
"  perhaps  it  wouldn't  be  agreeable  to  you  to 
rehearse  the  scene." 

Boyd  said  not  a  word  in  reply,  but  he  man- 
aged in  another  way  to  convince  her  that  her 
doubt  on  that  point  was  unfounded.  When  she 
had  readjusted  the  "  flat  "  that  she  wore  as 
headgear  —  it  had  somehow  become  disar- 
ranged —  she  put  jest  aside,  saying : 

"  I  think  we  needn't  fear  anything  of  that 
sort,  Boyd.  My  father  is  apt  to  make  distinc- 
tions, just  as  other  people  are.  If  he  disliked 
you  or  disapproved  of  you,  he  would  make 
trouble  of  course ;  but  as  it  is  I  reckon  he  will 
brush  the  thing  aside  and  scold  about  the 
idiocy  that  makes  such  silly  rules." 

She  paused  in  her  speech  for  a  space.  Then 
she  added,  in  a  tone  which  the  young  man 
afterwards  recalled  in  doubt  and  distress : 

"  At  any  rate  it  makes  no  difference.  Noth- 
ing can  make  any  difference  —  now." 


30        WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  Tell  me,  please,"  he  said  gently,  "  just 
what  you  mean  by  that." 

"  I  am  not  a  women  to  love  lightly,  or  lightly 
to  forget.  Love  seems  to  me  a  holy  thing  and 
to  trifle  with  it  is  blasphemy.  I  have  given 
you  my  love,  Boyd,  and  there  is  no  power  in 
all  the  universe  that  can  make  me  take  it  back. 
Even  you  could  not  do  that.  Nothing  you 
might  do  —  even  if  it  were  crime  itself  — 
could  alter  the  fact  that  my  love  is  all  yours, 
now  and  forever." 

He  drew  her  to  him  in  a  tender  embrace,  but 
spoke  no  word  in  reply.  Speech  in  such  a  case 
must  be  an  impertinence.  Presently  she  went 
on: 

'  That  is  what  I  meant,  Boyd.  I  have  prom- 
ised to  be  your  wife.  I  shall  keep  that  promise 
if  the  stars  fall.  I  have  no  doubt  my  father 
will  cordially  give  his  consent;  but  if  it  should 
be  otherwise,  it  will  make  no  difference  —  I 
shall  keep  my  promise." 

How  those  words  came  back  in  after  time 
to  Boyd  Westover!  And  how  he  pondered 
them  in  amazement  and  bitterness  of  soul! 


IV 

THE    BEST    LAID    PLANS 

MARGARET  was  right  in  her  antici- 
pations regarding  Colonel  Conway's 
attitude.  He  highly  approved  of  the 
young  man  upon  whose  gallantry  in  rescue  he 
had  enthusiastically  and  incessantly  descanted 
in  all  companies.  He  was  in  no  mood  to  find 
fault  with  the  slight  lapse  of  Boyd  Westover 
from  conventional  propriety.  He  liked  the 
way  in  which  Boyd  presented  his  case,  neither 
justifying  his  conduct  by  argument  nor  offer- 
ing excuses  for  it,  but  treating  it  as  a  matter 
of  manhood  necessity. 

"  I  suppose  I  should  not  have  addressed 
Margaret  when  I  did,"  he  said  in  manly  fash- 
ion ;  "  I  ought  to  have  waited,  but  under  the 
circumstances  I  couldn't  help  myself.  Hang 
it,  Colonel,  there  are  times  when  a  man  must 
do  things  he  ought  not." 

"  Right,  my  boy,  altogether  right,  absolutely 
3* 


32 


WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 


right,  eternally  right,"  was  the  enthusiastic 
response.  "  It's  blood  that  flows  in  your  veins 
—  hot  blood  —  and  not  tepid  milk  and  water. 
Why,  sir,  I  courted  Margaret's  mother  as  we 
hung  to  the  gunwale  of  a  capsized  sailboat, 
and  I've  been  proud  of  it  all  my  life,  sir.  A 
mollycoddle  would  have  waited  for  her  to  comb 
her  hair  and  put  on  dry  clothes  while  he  was 
making  up  pretty  speeches  for  the  occasion. 
That's  the  mollycoddle's  way.  The  man's  way 
is  to  tell  the  girl  he  loves  her,  whenever  the 
right  moment  comes,  and  leave  the  dry  clothes 
and  the  pretty  speeches  for  another  time.  So 
don't  apologize,  don't  fret,  don't  give  the  thing 
another  thought.  You  shall  have  Margaret's 
hand  with  her  father's  blessing  whenever  you 
and  she  choose  to  fix  upon  the  day.  I'll  pack 
The  Oaks  with  the  best  of  good  company; 
there  shall  be  feasting  and  —  oh,  by  the  way, 
there's  one  little  formality  I  suppose  you'll  have 
to  go  through.  There's  Margaret's  aunt, — 
my  sister  Betsy,  you  know.  It'll  be  best  all 
around  if  you  treat  her  with  distinguished  con- 
sideration. She's  apt  to  stand  upon  her  dig- 
nity, and  I've  always  found  it  best  to  recognize 


THE    BEST    LAID    PLANS         33 

the  fact,  gracefully.  It  ministers  to  peace  and 
comfort.  I  think  you  and  Margaret  had  better 
present  yourselves  to  her  together,  and  do  the 
thing  up  with  all  the  formalities.  It  will  not 
be  necessary  to  mention  to  her  the  little  slip 
you've  been  confessing  to  me.  She'd  probably 
take  it  seriously.  It's  a  way  she  has.  You 
can  just  let  her  think  the  thing  occurred  here 
to-day.  You  and  Margaret  can  go  out  into  the 
garden  after  dinner,  and  when  you  return  pre- 
sent yourselves  to  Betsy  and  tell  her  about  it 
as  if  it  had  just  happened." 

With  the  reassurance  of  the  solemn  words 
Margaret  had  spoken  the  day  before,  Boyd 
Westover  had  no  great  fear  of  anything  "  Aunt 
Betsy "  might  say,  but  he  was  disposed  to 
humor  Colonel  Conway,  and  besides  he  fore- 
saw that  life  at  The  Oaks  might  be  pleasanter 
for  Margaret  with  the  old  lady's  approval  than 
without  it.  So  the  little  diplomatic  stratagem 
was  carried  out  so  successfully  that  Aunt  Betsy 
—  always  chary  in  the  bestowal  of  praise  — 
said  to  Margaret  that  night : 

"  If  you  must  marry,  —  and  I  suppose  you 
must,  —  I'm  glad  you're  to  marry  a  young 


34       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

gentleman  who  observes  the  courtesies  of  life 
and  knows  how  to  treat  his  elders  with  proper 
respect.  I  rather  approve  of  Mr.  Boyd  West- 
over." 

"  Thank  you,  Aunt  Betsy,"  Margaret  an- 
swered, concealing  a  smile.  "  You  don't  often 
say  so  much  in  praise  of  a  young  man." 

"  Of  course  not.  In  these  days  it's  not  easy 
to  find  young  gentlemen  who  deserve  any 
praise  at  all.  Manners  are  so  dreadfully  lax 
nowadays.  Even  you  shock  and  distress  me 
frequently,  in  spite  of  the  pains  I've  taken  to 
train  you  properly." 

"  Why,  Aunt  Betsy,  what  have  I  been  doing 
now?  Is  it  something  dreadful?" 

"  From  my  point  of  view  it  is.  You  spoke 
of  Mr.  Boyd  Westover  just  now,  by  implica- 
tion at  least,  as  a  *  young  man.'  A  young  lady 
doesn't  associate  with  '  young  men  ' ;  those 
whom  she  recognizes  are  young  gentlemen/' 

"  If  you'd  seen  him  encounter  that  bull  and 
snatch  me  from  under  his  horns,  Aunt  Betsy, 
I  reckon  you'd  have  thought  him  a  good  deal 
of  a  man." 

"No  —  a  good  deal  of  a  gentleman  rather. 


THE    BEST    LAID    PLANS         35 

The  distinction  is  important,  my  dear,  though 
I  can't  make  you  see  it.  And  besides  he's  so 
polite  to  his  elders,  especially  ladies.  I  was 
never  more  respectfully  treated  in  my  life. 
He's  just  like  the  young  gentlemen  of  my  time. 
Of  course  when  he  addressed  you  he  sank 
upon  his  knees  —  " 

"  He  certainly  did  nothing  of  the  kind," 
Margaret  answered  hotly.  "  If  he  had  I  should 
have  spurned  him  with  contempt.  No  man 
who  respects  himself  would  bend  his  knee  to 
any  woman." 

"  I  wish  you  would  say  *  gentleman '  and 
'  lady  '  —  and  especially  wouldn't  call  yourself 
a  '  woman/  Margaret.  It's  positively  shock- 
ing. But  it's  so  with  everybody  in  these  de- 
generate days  —  even  well-bred  young  girls, 
and  Heaven  is  my  witness  that  I've  tried  hard 
to  raise  you  well.  When  did  he  address  you 
the  first  time?" 

"  There  was  only  this  one  time,"  Margaret 
answered,  dreamily,  as  she  recalled  the  scene 
on  the  porch. 

"  Do  you  mean,  Margaret,  that  you  accepted 
him  the  first  time  he  asked  you  ?  " 


36        WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Betsy,  why  not?    I  loved  him." 

"  Margaret,  you  shock  me ;  worse  than  that, 
your  conduct  grieves  and  afflicts  me.  Haven't 
I  told  you  a  thousand  times  that  no  lady  ever 
forgets  her  dignity  so  far  as  that  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  counted  the  times,  Aunt  Betsy, 
but  probably  your  estimate  of  a  thousand  isn't 
far  wrong.  It  is  more  than  five  hundred  at 
any  rate." 

"  Margaret,  you  trifle,  and  I'm  not  accus- 
tomed to  be  trifled  with." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Aunt  Betsy.  I  didn't 
mean  to  trifle.  Listen  to  me  seriously  now. 
I  hold  the  love  of  a  man  and  a  woman  to  be 
the  holiest  thing  on  earth.  I  regard  all  trifling 
with  it  as  blasphemy,  and  I  think  all  your  rules 
and  conventionalities  concerning  it  silly  and 
sinful  nonsense.  If  there  is  ever  a  time  when 
a  woman  should  be  honest  and  truthful  it  is 
when  the  man  she  loves  tells  her  of  his  love 
and  asks  for  hers  in  return.  There,  I  have 
shocked  you  dreadfully,  I  know,  but  you  forced 
me  to  do  it.  I  have  spoken  the  truth  as  my 
soul  sees  it." 

Without  another  word  the  high-strung  girl 


THE    BEST    LAID    PLANS         37 

quitted  the  room.  It  was  the  first  time  in  her 
life  that  she  had  "  broken  bounds  "  with  her 
aunt,  and  her  self-assertion  astonished  even 
herself.  But  she  did  not  and  would  not  repent 
of  it.  Love  had  brought  to  her  a  new  dignity 
of  womanhood,  that  was  all. 

During  the  week  that  followed  Boyd  West- 
over  found  himself  a  busier  man  than  he  had 
ever  been  before.  He  was  up  at  dawn  to  set 
going  the  day's  work  in  the  crops,  and  not 
long  after  sunrise  he  was  apt  to  appear  at  The 
Oaks  where  Margaret  awaited  his  coming  for 
their  early  morning  ride.  After  breakfast  with 
her  he  returned  to  his  fields,  but  by  four  o'clock 
he  was  at  The  Oaks  again  for  dinner.  His 
evenings  were  spent  in  his  own  chamber,  where 
he  toiled  over  papers  until  far  into  the  night, 
in  an  effort  to  master  every  detail  of  the  finan- 
cial condition  of  the  Wanalah  estate. 

When  he  had  done  so,  he  asked  for  a  con- 
ference with  Colonel  Conway,  to  whom  he  ex- 
plained his  plans. 

"  I  find  that  the  interest  charged  on  nearly 
all  the  notes  my  father  gave  is  higher  than  it 
ought  to  be ;  on  some  it  is  positively  extortion- 


38        WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

ate.  My  father  was  an  optimist,  I  suppose, 
and  he  seems  to  have  fallen  among  thieves  — 
money  lenders,  I  should  say." 

"  One  and  the  same  thing,"  said  the  elder 
man.  "  I  know  their  kind.  I'm  myself  a  vic- 
tim. Go  on." 

"  Well,  as  I  figure  it  out,  the  excessive  inter- 
est the  estate  is  paying  —  I  mean  the  amount 
of  interest  in  excess  of  a  reasonable  rate  — 
eats  up  about  half  the  tobacco  crop  every  year, 
and  I've  decided  to  stop  it,  just  as  we  stop 
the  depredations  of  the  worms  and  grasshop- 
pers." 

"Good!   But  how?" 

"  Why,  I'm  going  to  Richmond,  and  per- 
haps to  the  North  if  necessary,  to  find  some 
one  who  will  take  a  single  mortgage  loan  for 
the  whole  amount  of  the  estate's  debts,  a  loan 
carrying  a  reasonable  rate  of  interest.  With 
the  proceeds  I'll  cancel  all  the  present  debts, 
and  thereafter  the  estate  will  have  but  one 
creditor,  pay  a  moderate  interest  and  devote 
every  dollar  of  surplus  earnings  to  a  steady 
reduction  of  the  principal.  I've  figured  the 
whole  thing  out,  and  with  ordinarily  fair  crops 


THE    BEST    LAID    PLANS         39 

and  a  reasonable  style  of  living,  I  can  extin- 
guish the  entire  debt  in  ten  years  or  less." 

The  two  went  together  over  the  figures,  and 
the  older  man,  who  was  both  shrewd  and  ex- 
perienced, pronounced  the  plan  entirely  sound 
and  feasible.  It  remained  only  to  find  the 
bank,  insurance  company,  or  other  financial  in- 
stitution that  would  make  the  loan. 

In  search  of  that,  Boyd  Westover  set  off 
almost  at  once  for  Richmond.  As  he  rode 
away  after  parting  with  Margaret  he  turned  in 
his  saddle  and  gaily  waved  her  a  last  adieu, 
quite  as  if  the  parting  were  expected  to  be  for 
months  or  years  instead  of  for  the  brief  tale  of 
days  the  youth  assigned  to  it. 


V 


PLEASANT  DREAMS  AND  AN   UGLY  AWAKENING 

BOYD    WESTOVER   sat   in   his   hotel 
room  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
Papers,  mostly  memoranda,   lay  scat- 
tered about  upon  his  table,  while  some  large 
sheets  were  spread  out  before  him.     On  these 
he  was  making  calculations. 

He  was  a  thorough-going  person  by  nature 
and  habit,  and  he  was  making  careful  estimates 
of  the  several  offers  he  had  secured  for  the 
making  of  the  desired  loan  on  Wanalah  plan- 
tation,   in   an   effort   to   determine   which   of 
them  he  might  most  wisely  accept. 
Finally  he  said  to  himself : 
"  The  Milhauser  offer  is  the  best,  or  will  be 
if  I  can  persuade  the  agent  to  accept  a  mort- 
gage instead  of  the  deed  of  trust  he  wants. 
Perhaps  I  can.     He  didn't  make  the  condition 
peremptory,  and  he  clearly  wants  to  secure  the 
40 


PLEASANT    DREAMS  41 

loan  as  an  investment.  I'll  see  him  in  the 
morning.  No,  by  the  way,  he  said  I'd  find 
him  at  home  this  evening  if  I  should  want  to 
see  him.  I'll  walk  out  to  his  house  now." 

Turning  to  the  table  he  took  up  one  of  the 
memorandum  sheets  and  read  at  top  the  num- 
ber of  the  agent's  house  in  far  upper  Broad 
Street. 

"  It's  almost  out  of  town,"  he  muttered. 
"  Must  be  out  beyond  Richmond  College. 
But  the  walk  will  do  me  good,  and  I'll  sleep 
better  if  I  can  get  the  thing  settled  to-night." 

He  put  an  extinguisher  over  the  camphene 
lamp,  and  set  out  without  overcoat  or  wrap 
of  any  kind.  It  was  a  warm,  cloudy  summer 
night,  and  the  Virginians  rarely  wore  over- 
coats even  in  winter.  They  were  horsemen, 
all  of  them,  and  even  the  lightest  overcoat  is 
a  burden  and  a  nuisance  to  one  riding  on 
horseback. 

As  he  walked  up  Grace  Street  beneath  the 
spreading  shade  trees,  it  began  to  rain,  not 
heavily  but  steadily.  Westover  was  too  well 
accustomed  to  the  out  of  door  life  to  think  of 
turning  back  because  of  a  drizzle,  but  as  the 


42        WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

rain  increased  he  turned  up  the  collar  of  his 
coat  and  drew  his  soft  felt  hat  down  over  his 
eyes.  Presently  he  stopped  under  a  street  lamp 
and  consulted  a  paper  which  he  drew  from  his 
pocket.  Some  detail  of  the  negotiation  had  es- 
caped his  mind  and  he  stopped  thus  to  refresh 
his  memory. 

As  he  stood  there  under  the  lamp  with  his 
back  turned  away  from  the  sidewalk  Sam  An- 
derson, an  acquaintance  of  his  own,  passed, 
and  recognizing  him  called  out: 

"  Hello,  Boyd !  Reading  a  love  letter  by  the 
light  of  a  street  lamp  in  a  soaking  rain  ?  You'd 
better  go  indoors  somewhere  unless  you  want 
to  imagine  tear  drops  punctuating  the  tender 
missive." 

Boyd  turned  and  made  some  careless  reply. 
The  two  separated  —  Boyd  going  on  up  Grace 
Street  and  turning  north  to  Broad,  while  An- 
derson hurried  down  town. 

The  incident  was  utterly  trifling  in  itself, 
but  it  was  destined  to  exercise  a  baleful  influ- 
ence upon  Boyd  Westover's  life. 

It  was  nearly  an  hour  after  midnight  when 
the  young  man  presented  himself  again  at  the 


PLEASANT    DREAMS  43 

hotel  office  and  asked  for  his  key.  The  night 
clerk  observed  that  he  was  soaked  and  drip- 
ping, for  the  rain  was  falling  in  torrents  now, 
and  suggested  the  need  of  a  little  fire  in  Boyd's 
room.  The  fire  was  ordered,  as  the  night  had 
grown  chill  in  spite  of  the  season,  and  by  the 
time  he  had  got  himself  into  dry  clothes,  the 
blaze  of  the  soft  coal  had  made  the  room  so 
cheerful  that  the  young  man  decided  to  write 
letters  before  going  to  bed.  One  of  them  was 
addressed  to  Colonel  Conway,  and  in  it  Boyd 
announced  his  success  in  arranging  the  loan, 
setting  forth  the  terms  secured  and  going  mi- 
nutely into  detail.  In  the  other,  which  was 
addressed  to  Colonel  Conway's  daughter,  he 
told  again  of  his  success,  giving  no  details  at 
all,  but  setting  forth  his  rosy  anticipations  of 
the  coming  time  —  now  not  far  away  —  when 
she  should  be  "  my  lady  of  Wanalah." 

The  letter  to  Colonel  Conway  was  a  long- 
one  of  necessity ;  that  to  Margaret  was  much 
longer  without  any  necessity  at  all.  But  even 
the  longest  letter  must  come  to  an  end  some- 
time, and  at  last,  about  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  Boyd  Westover  crept  into  bed,  a  man 


44        WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

altogether  happy  in  the  present  and  confidently 
hopeful  of  the  future.  And  why  not?  For- 
tune was  bringing  him  its  richest  gifts.  Love 
was  already  his  and  the  future  held  out  to  him 
an  assured  promise  of  happiness  and  peace  in 
the  plantation  life  he  loved.  Now  that  he  had 
succeeded  in  arranging  his  financial  affairs  to 
his  liking,  he  had  no  vexing  problems  to 
wrestle  with,  no  cause  of  anxiety  of  any  kind. 
With  Margaret  for  his  wife,  with  an  ample 
sufficiency  of  this  world's  goods,  he  had  only  to 
conduct  his  plantation  affairs,  to  entertain  his 
friends,  and  to  keep  company  with  his  books. 

It  was  of  all  this  he  dreamed  when  he  sank 
to  sleep. 

When  he  awoke  a  constable  stood  by  his 
bedside,  with  two  of  his  assistants  a  few  feet 
farther  away. 

"  Sorry,  sir,"  said  the  constable.  "  I  don't 
like  to  wake  a  gentleman,  sir,  and  still  less  in 
a  case  like  this.  If  it  was  only  a  common 
criminal,  sir,  I  shouldn't  mind,  but  with  a 
young  gentleman,  my  duty  ain't  no  ways  a 
pleasant  job." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  you  ruffian  ?  "  angrily 


PLEASANT    DREAMS  45 

asked  Westover  springing  out  of  bed.    "  Why 
do  you  presume  to  —  " 

;  'Taint  presumin'  I  reckon,"  answered  the 
constable,  "  when  I've  got  this  fer  my  author- 
ity. Read  it,  sir,  and  see." 

Boyd  hastily  glanced  at  the  paper.  It  was 
a  warrant  for  his  arrest  on  a  charge  of  bur- 
glary. 

He  laughed  a  little,  as  he  proceeded  to  dress, 
saying : 

"  Of  course  this  is  a  ludicrous  mistake,  but 
you  are  not  to  blame  for  it.  Those  who  are 
will  have  to  answer  for  their  blundering.  I'm 
ready.  Take  me  to  the  magistrate." 

"  He  don't  git  up  this  soon  in  the  mornin', 
sir.  He  was  woke  up  to  'tend  to  this  thing, 
an'  he  wa'n't  in  no  pleasant  frame  o'  mind 
'bout  it  nuther.  I  reckon  he'll  lay  abed  late 
this  mornin'  to  make  up  his  lost  sleep,  like.  I 
don't  reckon  he'll  show  hisself  in  court  till  'long 
'bout  noon." 

"  Where  will  you  take  me,  then  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  it'll  have  to  be  the  lock-up,  sir." 

"  The  lock-up  ?    You  mean  a  jail  ?  " 

"  Well  jail's  the  straightaway  name  fer  it, 


46       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

but  we  mostly  calls  it  lock-up.  Seems  softer 
like." 

"  Now  my  man,  listen  to  me.  You  have  no 
right  to  put  me  in  jail.  Your  warrant  merely 
directs  you  to  arrest  me  and  bring  me  to  court. 
It  says  nothing  about  locking  me  up  in  jail.  I 
tell  you  there's  some  absurd  mistake  about  this 
thing,  and  when  I'm  brought  before  the  magis- 
trate it  will  all  be  cleared  up.  You  can  detain 
me  until  then  without  putting  a  jail  indignity 
upon  me.  Stay  here  at  the  hotel  with  me.  Go 
with  me  to  breakfast,  leaving  your  men  on 
guard  outside.  When  the  time  comes  take  me 
before  the  magistrate.  In  the  meanwhile  I'll 
send  for  my  lawyer  and  find  out  what's  to  be 
done." 

The  constable  ran  his  eye  over  the  muscular 
young  man,  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Can't  be  did,"  he  replied.  "  You  mout 
make  up  your  mind  to  break  away,  and  I  don't 
brag  o'  stren'th  enough  to  handle  a  limber 
twig  like  you." 

"  Well  then,  you  can  bring  your  men  with 
you  into  the  dining  room  and  keep  them  with 
you." 


PLEASANT    DREAMS  47 

"  See  here,  Mr.  Westover,"  interrupted  the 
bailiff,  "  this  here  ain't  noways  a  pleasant  job 
fer  me,  an'  ef  you'll  give  me  your  word  of 
honor  as  a  gentleman  that  you  won't  git  me 
into  no  trouble  by  givin'  me  the  slip  or  tryin' 
to  break  bounds,  I'll  take  the  chances  on  you. 
I  won't  go  to  breakfast  with  you,  'cause  it  'ud 
make  talk  ef  folks  saw  a  gentleman  like  you 
a  entertainin'  a  feller  like  me  that  a  ways.  I'll 
jest  set  down  furder  down  the  table  like,  an' 
leave  my  men  outside.  Is  it  a  go  ?  " 

''  Yes,  and  thank  you  for  your  consideration. 
I  give  you  my  word  of  honor  as  a  gentleman 
that  I  will  make  no  attempt  to  escape,  either 
during  breakfast  or  at  any  other  time,  and 
that  when  you  wish  me  to  go  to  the  court  with 
you  I'll  go  without  a  word.  Is  that  suffi- 
cient?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  that's  enough.  A  gentleman  may 
do  things  that  gits  him  into  trouble  with  the 
courts,  but  I  ain't  never  knowed  a  gentleman 
to  break  his  word  of  honor." 

The  constable  was  by  no  means  an  over- 
confiding  person,  but  the  dictum  he  announced 
was  based  upon  the  facts  of  a  social  system 


48        WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

with  which  he  had  been  familiar  all  his  life. 
It  would  have  been  accepted  without  question 
by  any  other  man  of  his  class  in  the  common- 
wealth. Thanks  to  it,  Boyd  Westover  was 
left  free  to  go  and  come  at  will  within  the  pre- 
cincts of  the  hotel.  He  hurriedly  summoned 
his  friend  and  attorney,  Jack  Towns,  and  re- 
mained in  conference  with  him  throughout  the 
morning. 

Neither  could  frame  any  plausible  conjec- 
ture as  to  the  meaning  of  the  arrest.  There 
was  nothing  in  any  of  the  morning  newspapers 
to  give  even  a  hint  toward  the  solution  of  the 
mystery.  It  was  not  the  practice  of  the  Rich- 
mond newspapers  at  that  time  to  print  news, 
except  such  as  related  to  politics.  If  by 
chance  they  recorded  any  local  happening,  it 
was  by  mere  mention,  in  small  type  in  some 
out  of  the  way  corner  of  columns  which  were 
mainly  devoted  to  ponderous  editorial  essays 
on  affairs  of  state,  and  to  a  reprint  of  the  pro- 
ceedings of  Congress  on  the  day  before. 

It  was  not  until  the  two  friends,  lawyer  and 
client,  were  escorted  by  the  bailiff  to  a  magis- 
trate's court  that  they  learned  aught  of  the 


PLEASANT    DREAMS  49 

charge  against  the  accused  man.  What  they 
learned  there  was  very  little,  but  it  furnished  a 
basis  for  further  inquiry  on  their  part.  As 
this  is  not  a  detective  story,  all  that  they 
learned  in  court  and  by  subsequent  inquiry 
may  best  be  related  directly,  in  another  chap- 
ter. 

f. 


VI 

OUT    OF    A    CLEAR    SKY 

ON  a  corner  of  Grace  Streeftn  that  part 
of  it  which  Westover  had  twice  trav- 
ersed on  the  evening  before,  stood  a 
very  spacious  dwelling  house,  used  at  that  time 
as  a  "  Select  Educational  Establishment   for 
Young   Ladies."      That   was   what   the    pro- 
prietor, Monsieur  Le  Voiser,  called  it  in  his 
circulars  and  the  like ;   everybody  else  called  it 
".Le  Voiser's  School." 

There  young  women,  mostly  the  daughters 
of  the  well  to  do  planters,  were  "  finished  " 
after  the  most  approved  fashion.  The  train- 
ing they  had  received  at  the  hands  of  their 
governesses  and  tutors  was  supplemented  by 
certain  refinements  of  education  which  were 
deemed  necessary  to  the  perfection  of  their 
minds  and  manners.  They  had  already  learned 
to  strum  on  the  piano;  here  they  were  taught 


OUT    OF   A    CLEAR    SKY          51 

how  to  do  so  with  ease  and  grace  and  with 
the  air  of  accomplished  pianistes.  Instead  of 
Stephen  C.  Foster's  melodious  but  idiotically 
sentimental  songs,  which  they  loved,  they  were 
trained  to  screech  "  Hear  me  Norma,"  and 
other  "  operatic  pieces,"  which  they  loathed. 
More  important  than  all,  they  were  taught 
French  until  they  could  dream  in  that  language 
—  bad  dreams  probably,  if  they  were  in  har- 
mony with  the  French  in  which  they  were 
cast. 

Boyd  Westover  was  acquainted  with  a  dozen 
or  more  of  Monsieur  Le  Voiser's  pupils,  they 
being  the  daughters  of  his  neighbors  and 
friends.  He  knew  the  place  also,  having  de- 
livered a  brief  course  of  lectures  there  during 
the  preceding  year. 

About  half  past  twelve  o'clock  on  the  night 
on  which  he  had  stopped  under  a  street  lamp 
to  read  a  paper  in  the  rain,  there  was  an  alarm 
in  Le  Voiser's  school.  There  were  shriekings 
that  might  have  been  heard  a  block  away; 
there  were  a  few  faintings,  and  there  was  a 
general  muster  of  scantily  robed  young  women 
headed  by  the  matron  of  the  establishment, 


52        WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

who  was  madly  bent  upon  marching  them  into 
the  garden  in  spite  of  the  pouring  rain. 

The  alarm  had  gone  forth  that  there  was 
"  a  man  in  the  house."  One  girl  had  impru- 
dently asked,  "  Is  it  a  burglar?  "  only  to  bring 
down  the  matron's  wrath  upon  her  head. 

"  What  does  that  matter  to  you,  Mademoi- 
selle? As  a  properly  brought  up  young  lady 
it  is  enough  for  you  to  know  that  he's  a  man. 
You  should  be  ashamed  to  need  more  than  that 
to  alarm  you." 

It  was  Monsieur  Le  Voiser's  proud  boast 
that  "  French  is  the  language  of  the  establish- 
ment, and  no  young  lady  attending  it  is  per- 
mitted to  employ  any  other  tongue."  It  is  per- 
haps an  illustration  of  the  untrustworthiness  of 
educational  veneering,  that  in  this  time  of  ex- 
citement nobody  spoke  a  word  of  French,  until 
the  intruder,  who  had  been  hiding  behind  a 
door,  slipped  from  his  place  of  concealment 
and  made  a  dash  for  the  verandah  through  the 
French  window  by  which  he  had  entered.  As 
he  did  so  the  light  of  three  or  four  bedroom 
candles  held  high  in  air  fell  full  upon  him,  and 
half  a  dozen  of  the  girls  shouted  in  chorus : 


OUT    OF   A    CLEAR    SKY          53 

"  Regardez  him !  It's  Mr.  Boyd  Westover !  " 

The  consternation  which  fell  upon  the  ex- 
cited group  at  this  announcement  seemed  to 
afford  a  sufficient  occasion  for  several  interest- 
ing attacks  of  hysteria,  in  the  execution  of 
which  one  damsel  made  the  startling  announce- 
ment: 

"  He  came  to  kidnap  me !  "  repeating  it  sev- 
eral times.  When  she  grew  a  little  calmer  so 
that  she  might  be  questioned  as  to  her  mean- 
ing she  declared  that  Boyd  Westover  was 
madly  in  love  with  her.  Then,  having  set  the 
inventive  machinery  of  her  creative  imagina- 
tion going,  she  told  a  romantic  story  interest- 
ing to  hear  and  perfectly  delicious  to  tell. 

In  it  she  figured  as  a  heroine  of  romance, 
beset  by  the  passionate  entreaties  of  a  lover  to 
whom  she  found  it  impossible  to  give  her  love 
in  return,  and  so  forth  to  the  end  of  as  pretty 
a  story  of  love  and  coldness,  persuasion  and 
pleading,  as  any  that  Mrs.  Caroline  Lee  Hentz 
or  Mrs.  E.  D.  E.  N.  Southworth  ever  manufac- 
tured for  the  delectation  of  languishing  Lydias. 

The  girl's  ambition  to  win  interest  in  her 
own  behalf  somewhat  overreached  itself.  The 


54       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

other  girls  were  jealous  of  her  romantic  dis- 
tinction and,  when  they  grew  calm  while  she 
got  herself  carried  to  bed,  they  flatly  refused  to 
believe  her  story. 

But  there  was  no  room  for  doubt  that  the 
intruder  was  Boyd  Westover,  or  that  he  had 
forced  the  fastenings  of  a  bolted  window  in 
gaining  entrance.  One  girl,  whose  father  was 
a  lawyer,  explained  that  this  forcing  of  fas- 
tenings, however  frail  they  might  have  been, 
constituted  the  crime  of  burglary. 

Then  somebody  remembered  that  the  in- 
truder had  escaped  and  some  one  else  ventured 
the  suggestion  that  steps  ought  to  be  taken 
to  apprehend  him.  To  that  end  Monsieur  Le 
Voiser  was  summoned  from  his  private  resi- 
dence in  the  next  street.  After  all  the  girls 
who  personally  knew  Boyd  Westover,  and  all 
those  who  had  attended  his  course  of  lectures 
had  borne  witness  that  the  intruder  was  un- 
mistakably he,  Monsieur  proceeded  to  set  the 
machinery  of  the  law  in  motion,  with  the  re- 
sults already  set  forth. 

When  Boyd,  Avith  Jack  Towns  as  his  counsel, 
presented  himself  before  the  magistrate,  there 


OUT    OF   A    CLEAR    SKY          55 

was  a  group  of  Monsieur  Le  Voiser's  pupils 
there,  whom  Jack  Towns,  borrowing  his  text 
from  the  circus  posters,  called  "  A  bevy  of 
beauty  and  galaxy  of  grace."  They  were  there 
under  command  of  their  matron  to  testify  to 
the  facts  of  the  burglary  and  the  identity  of 
the  burglar,  which  they  one  and  all  did  with 
so  much  confidence  that  Jack  Towns  found  it 
impossible  to  shake  their  beliefs  in  the  smallest 
degree. 

Sam  Anderson  was  there  too,  very  reluc- 
tantly indeed  and  under  compulsion  of  a  sub- 
poena. The  Commonwealth's  Attorney  had 
somehow  learned  of  his  encounter  with  West- 
over  near  the  scene  of  the  burglary  under  what 
appeared  to  be  suspicious  circumstances.  The 
hotel  clerk  was  present  to  testify  concerning 
the'  hour  and  circumstances  of  Westover's  re- 
turn to  the  hotel  on  the  night  before. 

To  meet  all  this  array  of  testimony,  Boyd 
Westover  had  no  single  witness  of  any  kind. 
And  if  there  had  been  any  such  Jack  Towns 
would  not  have  put  him  on  the  stand.  It  was 
clear  that  the  accused  young  man  must  be 
committed  in  any  case  to  await  the  action  of 


56       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

the  Grand  Jury,  and  Jack  Towns  was  much  too 
shrewd  a  lawyer  to  waste  strength  —  if  he  had 
had  any  strength  —  in  this  preliminary  hear- 
ing. He  devoted  himself  instead  to  the  task 
of  getting  the  bail  fixed  at  as  low  a  sum  as 
possible.  When  he  pleaded  that  his  client  was 
well  known  to  be  a  gentleman  of  the  best  fam- 
ily connections  and  the  most  scrupulous  honor, 
a  man  to  whom  the  commission  of  such  a  crime 
was  utterly  impossible,  the  magistrate  re- 
minded him  that  the  witnesses  were  young 
gentlewomen  of  equally  good  families,  in 
whom  perjury  was  not  even  conceivable;  that 
their  number  was  too  great  and  their  testimony 
too  positive  to  leave  room  for  the  theory  of 
possible  mistake ;  and  finally  that  the  very  fact 
of  Boyd  Westover's  high  place  in  life  rendered 
any  crime  on  his  part  especially  heinous.  He 
felt  bound,  he  said,  to  fix  bail  at  five  thousand 
dollars  —  a  very  great  sum  in  those  days. 

Within  the  hour,  however,  Boyd's  friends 
and  those  who  had  been  friends  of  his  father, 
rallied  about  him,  ready  and  eager  to  furnish 
bonds  for  any  amount.  Not  one  of  them  knew 
aught  of  the  merits  of  the  case,  and  not  one  of 


OUT    OF   A    CLEAR    SKY         57 

them  asked  a  question  concerning  it.  They 
simply  did  not  believe  that  Boyd  Westover 
had  broken  by  night  into  a  girls'  school  for 
any  purpose  whatever,  and  they  were  deter- 
mined that  he  should  not  go  to  jail  while 
awaiting  indictment  and  trial  on  so  absurd  a 
charge. 

"  Now  come  with  me/'  said  Jack  Towns  as 
soon  as  the  matter  of  the  bail  bonds  was  set- 
tled. "  We'll  go  to  my  house,  not  to  my  office, 
to  avoid  interruptions.  I  must  get  at  the  very 
marrow  of  this  matter  before  a  word  is  said 
about  it.  Come." 

When  the  two  were  seated  in  an  untidy 
room  of  Jack  Towns's  untidy  bachelor  estab- 
lishment, and  Jack  had  locked  the  front  door 
for  the  first  time  within  his  recollection,  he 
turned  to  his  friend,  saying: 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me  every  thing  you  did 
last  night  —  the  unimportant  things  even  more 
than  the  important.  Don't  be  afraid  of  .bor- 
ing me  with  details,  and  relate  everything  in 
the  order  in  which  it  occurred.  Then  I'll  cross- 
examine  you  as  rigidly  as  if  you  were  a  wit- 
ness concealing  something.  Perhaps  we  may 


58       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

discover  something  to  shed  light  upon  what 
seems  the  most  perplexing  mystery  I  ever 
knew.  Go  on." 

Boyd  told  the  story  in  minute  detail,  ending 
it  by  saying : 

"  I  can  make  oath  to  all  that  and  swear  that 
nothing  else  of  any  kind  occurred." 

"  No,  you  can't,"  said  Jack  Towns.  "  The 
court  won't  let  you  swear  to  any  of  it." 

"  Can  I  not  make  a  statement  of  facts  in  a 
case  that  involves  my  liberty,  my  reputation, 
and  everything  else  that  I  care  for  ?  " 

"  No.  The  law  of  Virginia  does  not  per- 
mit an  accused  person  to  testify  in  his  own  be- 
half. That  is  the  Common  Law  rule,  and  Vir- 
ginia is  under  the  Common  Law.  Don't  tell 
me  the  thing  is  absurd,  unjust,  cruel,  barbaric, 
and  all  that;  for  I  know  it  already.  It  is  the 
law,  and  you  and  I  cannot  change  it.  Let  us 
go  on  with  our  inquiry  instead.  Do  you  know 
approximately  at  what  hour  you  passed  Le 
Voiser's  school  on  your  return  from  your  visit 
to  Milhauser?" 

"  I  know  exactly.  It  was  precisely  half-past 
twelve.  I  saw  lights  carried  about  in  the 


OUT    OF   A    CLEAR    SKY          59 

school  and,  wondering  at  the  fact,  looked  at 
my  watch  to  see  the  hour." 

"  And  you  left  Milhauser's  house  at  what 
time?" 

"  Half-past  ten." 

"  Why  did  it  take  you  so  long  to  get  back 
to  the  hotel?" 

"  Milhauser's  house,  as  you  know,  is  away 
out  of  town  —  beyond  Richmond  College. 
There's  a  horse  car  which  runs  at  irregular 
intervals  between  the  college  and  the  Broad 
Street  end  of  the  Fredericksburg  Railroad, 
using  the  track  of  that  railroad  when  no  train 
is  due.  When  I  got  to  the  college  gate  it  was 
raining  heavily  and  I  took  shelter  under  a  sort 
of  shed  opposite  the  gates  to  wait  for  the  car. 
It  didn't  come,  and  at  last  I  decided  to  walk 
on." 

"  Why  did  you  turn  south  and  into  Grace 
Street,  instead  of  coming  on  down  Broad?" 

"  Because  it  was  raining  and  muddy,  and  the 
sidewalks  are  better  in  Grace  Street.  Besides, 
as  my  hotel  is  in  Main  Street  I  had  to  turn 
south  at  some  point  on  the  journey." 

"  Yes,  of  course." 


60       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

After  a  period  of  silent  thinking  to  no  pur- 
pose, Jack  Towns  said: 

"  It's  a  queer  case.  All  those  girls  swear 
you  were  in  the  school  a  little  after  twelve. 
Milhauser,  if  questioned,  would  have  to  swear 
that  you  left  his  house  at  half-past  ten.  You 
saw  nobody  else  after  that,  who  could  even 
suggest  an  alibi.  You  got  to  the  hotel  drenched 
and  dripping,  at  precisely  the  time  you  would 
have  got  there  if  you  had  been  chased  out  of 
the  school  at  the  time  the  intruder  was.  You 
admit  that  you  passed  the  school  at  the  time 
of  the  disturbance.  The  case  is  so  clearly  made 
out  against  you,  both  by  the  positive  testimony 
of  eyewitnesses,  and  by  all  the  circumstances, 
that  any  jury  ever  empanelled  would  have  to 
convict  you.  Why,  I'd  feel  bound  to  convict 
you  myself  —  " 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  have  the  remotest 
shadow  of  doubt  as  to  my  innocence  of  this 
charge?"  sternly  demanded  Westover,  rising. 

"  Certainly  not.  Don't  be  an  idiot.  Sit 
down.  But  as  the  case  stands  we  haven't  a 
straw  to  cling  to.  We  can't  impeach  the  testi- 
mony of  a  dozen  high-bred  young  women. 


OUT    OF    A    CLEAR    SKY         61 

every  one  of  whom  swears  positively  that  she 
knows  you  well  and  that  she  saw  you  make 
your  escape  from  the  invaded  precincts.  There 
is  no  way  in  which  we  can  so  much  as  cast  a 
doubt  upon  your  guilt.  With  the  case  pre- 
sented as  it  stands,  any  juror  who  should 
hesitate  to  pronounce  you  guilty  would  be  a 
perjurer.  The  only  hope  is  that  we  may 
find  some  way  out  before  the  case  comes  to 
trial." 

"When  will  that  be?"  asked  Boyd  West- 
over,  in  a  tone  so  stoically  calm  that  Jack 
Towns  looked  at  him  to  see  what  had  hap- 
pened to  him. 

"Are  you  ill?"  he  asked. 

"  No,  not  at  all.  It  is  only  that  I  see  the 
utter  hopelessness  of  the  case.  I  am  a  man 
condemned  to  worse  than  death.  But  I  am  a 
man  and  must  face  even  such  calamity  without 
flinching.  When  the  trial  is  over,  I  shall  be 
a  convicted  felon.  It  will  do  no  good  to  assert 
my  innocence.  Nobody  will  believe  it  —  no- 
body can,  in  face  of  the  testimony.  My  life 
is  ruined,  my  reputation  blasted,  my  doom 
sealed.  But  I  shall  neither  whine  nor  whim- 


62        WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

per.  Now  tell  me  when  the  blow  is  to  fall? 
When  will  the  trial  occur  ?  " 

"  The  court  is  in  session  now.  The  indict- 
ment will  be  found  to-morrow,  but  I  shall  se- 
cure a  postponement  of  the  trial  until  the  next 
term." 

"  Do  nothing  of  the  kind.  Let  the  trial 
come  on  at  once  —  the  sooner  the  better.  De- 
lay will  do  no  sort  of  good.  I  believe  every 
accused  person  is  entitled  to  '  a  speedy  trial.' 
Demand  that  for  me,  and  secure  it."  • 

Towns  argued  and  pleaded,  but  to  no  pur- 
pose. He  could  offer  no  suggestion  of  advan- 
tage in  delay,  except  by  saying: 

"  I  have  always  found  it  worth  while  to  trust 
to  the  unexpected.  If  we  have  time,  something 
may  happen  that  we  don't  anticipate." 

"  And  I,  in  the  meantime  ?  "  answered  Boyd. 
"  No.  Bring  the  thing  to  a  head  at  once. 
How  soon  can  you  make  it  ?  " 

"  Within  forty-eight  hours,"  answered  the 
lawyer.  "  I  advise  against  it,  but  —  " 

"  I  quite  understand.  The  responsibility 
rests  upon  me.  Go  on  and  make  an  end  of  the 
horrible  thing." 


VII 

IN    THE    VALLEY   OF   THE    SHADOW 

IT  was  the  chivalric  custom  of  the  Virgin- 
ians to  protect  their  woman-kind  in  all  cir- 
cumstances, at  all  costs  and  at  all  hazards, 
not  only  against  wrong  and  danger,  but  equally 
against  annoyance  and  especially  the  annoy- 
ance of  publicity.     Women  in  Virginia  were 
proudly  feminine;    men  intensely  and  bravely 
masculine. 

Accordingly  the  news  of  Boyd  Westover's 
case  had  only  begun  to  spread  abroad  when  all 
the  male  relatives  of  all  the  girls  in  Le  Voiser's 
school  set  themselves  to  hurry  their  daughters, 
sisters  and  nieces  into  secure  hiding,  so  that 
they  might  be  spared  the  annoyance  of  appear- 
ing in  court  as  witnesses  in  a  criminal  case. 

Short  as  the  time  was,  the  officers  sent  to 
serve  summonses  upon  such  as  were  wanted 
found  the  school  well  nigh  deserted.     Some 
63 


64       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

even  of  those  on  whom  they  succeeded  in  serv- 
ing their  subpoenas  were  protectingly  abducted 
before  the  day  of  the  trial  by  relatives  who 
braved  the  penalties  of  contempt  of  court  in 
rescue  of  delicately  nurtured  maidens  dear  to 
them. 

Nevertheless  there  were  one  or  two  of  the 
girls  present  in  court  when  Boyd  Westover 
was  called  to  the  bar.  These  had  been  in  hid- 
ing, but  their  places  of  concealment  had  been 
discovered  and  the  girls  themselves  brought  by 
force  to  the  court.  Then  too  the  matron  was 
there  prepared  to  bear  unhesitating  witness  to 
Boyd's  identity  with  the  offender. 

A  good  deal  of  time  was  consumed  in  se- 
curing a  jury.  The  first  man  called  declared : 

"  I  would  not  believe  this  charge  against 
Boyd  Westover  even  if  I  had  been  present,  see- 
ing him  with  my  own  eyes."  Others  ex- 
pressed their  incredulity  in  different  forms  of 
words  but  with  equal  positiveness,  and  of 
course  all  such  were  rejected.  It  thus  hap- 
pened that  the  jury  was  not  completed  till  a 
late  hour  in  the  day.  But  on  the  other  hand 
it  took  very  little  time  for  the  Commonwealth's 


VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW       65 

witnesses  to  give  their  testimony,  and  after 
one  or  two  fruitless  attempts  to  secure  from 
them  an  admission  of  doubt  or  possible  mis- 
take, Jack  Towns  forbore  to  cross  examine 
them. 

He  had  no  witnesses  to  offer  in  his  client's 
behalf.  He  had  nothing  to  depend  upon  in- 
deed except  a  certain  persuasive  eloquence 
which  had  often  served  him  well,  and  this  he 
brought  to  bear  with  all  his  passionate  nature 
to  stimulate  it.  He  spoke  for  an  hour.  He 
argued,  pleaded,  persuaded.  He  set  forth  the 
character  of  his  client  and  of  the  distinguished 
family  from  which  he  was  sprung.  He  dwelt 
upon  the  utter  improbability  of  the  commis- 
sion of  such  a  crime  by  such  a  man.  He 
pointed  out  and  emphasized  the  fact  that  a 
girls'  school  was  not  the  place  that  any  house- 
breaker in  his  senses  would  think  of  entering 
in  search  of  booty.  He  ended  with  an  im- 
passioned setting  forth  of  the  ruin  and  dis- 
grace that  must  fall  upon  this  high-charactered 
young  man  as  the  result  of  an  adverse  verdict. 
So  eloquently  and  so  pathetically  did  he  pre- 
sent the  pitiful  aspect  of  the  matter  that  tears 


66       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

ran  down  scores  of  cheeks,  and  the  Judge  him- 
self bowed  his  head  upon  the  desk  in  front  of 
the  bench,  as  if  to  conceal  an  emotion  he  could 
not  control. 

The  Commonwealth's  Attorney  —  the  pros- 
ecuting officer  —  rose,  but  instead  of  making 
the  usual  speech,  simply  said,  in  a  voice  choked 
with  sobs: 

"  The  testimony  is  before  you,  gentlemen  of 
the  jury.  I  have  nothing  to  add  to  it." 

There  was  but  one  result  possible.  Ten 
minutes  after  the  jury  retired,  it  filed  into 
court  again  bearing  a  verdict  of  "  Guilty." 

Boyd  Westover  was  a  convicted  felon.  The 
sun  of  his  fair  young  life  had  gone  down  amid 
clouds  of  black  disgrace,  and  it  could  know  no 
rising.  Worse  than  death  a  thousand  fold, 
worse  than  the  cruelest  torture  was  this  to  a 
proudly  sensitive  nature,  nurtured  in  traditions 
of  honor  that  held  every  slightest  character 
stain  to  be  an  indelible  blot. 

Yet  it  was  with  head  erect,  with  dry  eyes, 
with  unshaken  nerves  and  unflinching  spirit 
that  he  met  this  decree  of  doom.  It  was  the 
tradition  of  his  race  to  meet  Fate  without  fal- 


VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW       67 

tering,  to  fight  while  the  possibility  of  fighting 
lasted,  and  when  it  failed,  to  shroud  an  un- 
daunted soul  in  the  chain  mail  of  unconquer- 
able courage. 

When  the  verdict  was  rendered,  the  young 
man  turned  to  his  friend  and  counsellor,  and 
in  an  entirely  unemotional  voice,  said: 

"  I  thank  you  sincerely  for  all  you  have 
done  and  tried  to  do.  I  have  need  of  a  little 
time  in  which  to  arrange  my  affairs.  Can 
you  do  me  a  final  favor  by  securing  it  for 
me?" 

The  matter  was  easily  arranged.  The  Judge, 
full  of  compassion  for  the  ruined  youth,  and 
in  spite  of  reason,  testimony,  and  everything 
else,  still  not  believing  in  Boyd  Westover's 
guilt,  asked  if  ten  days  would  suffice.  Then 
without  renewing  the  bail  bonds  that  had  ex- 
pired with  the  beginning  of  the  trial,  he  ap- 
pointed the  tenth  day  thereafter  for  sentence. 
It  was  the  Commonwealth's  Attorney's  busi- 
ness to  move  for  the  renewal  of  the  bonds, 
without  which  the  condemned  man  was  in  fact 
under  no  restraint  whatever,  but  he  made  no 
motion  of  the  kind.  When  asked  by  Jack 


68       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

Towns  some  time  afterwards  why  he  had  not 
done  his  duty  in  that  respect,  he  replied : 

"  I  simply  couldn't.  Boyd  Westover  and  I 
were  schoolmates,  you  know,  and  I  lived  for 
many  months  in  his  father's  house.  I  knew  he 
wouldn't  run  away.  Who  ever  heard  of  a 
Westover  flinching?  Why  should  I  subject 
him  to  an  indignity  ?  " 

Thus,  in  Virginia,  did  character  —  personal 
and  inherited  —  count.  There  were  some 
things  that  a  gentleman  could  not  do.  He 
might  commit  a  crime  of  violence,  but  he  could 
not  do  a  cowardly  or  treacherous  act.  The 
bailiff  who  had  trusted  Boyd  Westover's  word 
of  honor,  knew  that  and  risked  the  loss  of  his 
place  upon  his  confidence  in  it.  The  Common- 
wealth's Attorney  knew  it  and  took  the  chance 
of  impeachment  upon  it. 

The  net  result  was  that  on  the  day  of  his 
conviction  Boyd  Westover  walked  out  of 
court  an  absolutely  free  man  except  in  so  far 
as  he  was  bound  by  his  own  sense  of  honor 
and  by  the  traditions  of  the  race  from  which 
he  was  sprung.  These  bound  him  to  appear 
in  court  for  sentence  at  the  end  of  the  ten  days 


VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW       69 

allowed  to  him,  and  as  everybody  knew,  the 
bond  was  amply  sufficient. 

Jack  Towns  took  him  in  the  meanwhile  to 
his  own  house. 

"  You'll  be  my  guest,"  he  said,  "  and  I'll 
see  that  we  aren't  interrupted." 

"  You  still  don't  mind  that  ?  "  Boyd  asked. 

For  response  he  got  an  earnest  look  in  the 
eyes,  and  the  verbal  answer: 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Boyd." 

After  a  minute,  Boyd  asked,  reflectively: 

"  How  is  it,  Jack,  that  you  and  some  others 
seem  still  to  believe  in  me?  In  view  of  the 
evidence  —  " 

"  Hang  the  evidence,"  interrupted  the  law- 
yer. "  Don't  you  know  that  character  is  the 
most  important  and  the  most  trustworthy  fact 
in  life  ?  You  don't  suppose  for  a  moment  that 
I  have  a  doubt  in  your  case,  do  you?  If 
you  do,  you  grievously  wrong  my  friend- 
ship." 

"  How  then  do  you  account  for  the  facts  as 
set  forth  in  the  testimony  against  me  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Boyd  ?  Are  you  try- 
ing to  convince  me  that  you  are  guilty  of  a 


70       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

crime  that  I  know  to  be  utterly  impossible  to 
you?" 

"  No.  I  am  only  trying  to  find  out  the 
grounds  of  your  confidence  in  me,  so  that  I 
may  know  how  far  to  impose  on  them  in  ma- 
king my  arrangements  for  the  future.  That's 
the  purport  of  my  question,  which,  by  the  way, 
you  haven't  answered  yet." 

"  Oh  well,  as  to  that,  you're  the  victim  of 
some  hideous  mistake.  If  you  had  let  me  stave 
off  your  trial  for  six  months  the  chances  are  we 
should  have  found  out  what  the  mistake  is. 
As  it  is  —  " 

"  As  it  is,  I  couldn't  have  lived  for  six 
months  in  such  suspense  as  that.  Neither 
could  you,  in  like  case.  We're  the  sort  of  men 
who  say  to  the  lightning,  '  Strike  if  you  will, 
but  don't  prolong  your  threats.'  Besides,  I 
cannot  see  how  this  thing  could  have  been 
bettered  by  delay.  Those  girls  honestly  believe 
they  recognized  me  as  an  intruder  in  the  school. 
They  would  believe  that  quite  as  firmly  six 
months  hence  as  now." 

"  Perhaps  so.  But  six  months  hence  not  one 
of  them  would  have  been  in  Virginia  to  testify 


VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW       71 

against  you.  Their  friends  would  have  taken 
care  of  that." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  And  I  should  have  been  sus- 
pected of  securing  my  acquittal  by  spiriting 
away  the  witnesses  against  me.  I  couldn't  live 
under  so  black  a  shadow  as  that." 

"  I  understand.  But  all  this  is  profitless. 
We  have  much  to  do  to  get  your  affairs  in 
order.  Let  us  address  ourselves  to  that.  First 
of  all  I've  had  all  your  mail  sent  up  here  from 
the  hotel.  Suppose  you  read  it  now,  and  after 
supper  we'll  set  to  work." 


VIII 

THE    SHADOWS    FALL 

WHEN  the  shadows  begin  to  fall  upon 
a  human  life,  they  fall  quickly  and 
darkly. 

In  Boyd  Westover's  mail  was  a  letter  from 
the  agent  who  had  arranged  the  mortgage 
loan  upon  Wanalah  plantation,  threatening  to 
abandon  the  arrangement  on  the  ground  that 
young  Westover's  conviction  impaired  the  se- 
curity. This  sorely  troubled  Boyd  Westover 
—  for  if  he  was  to  go  to  prison  his  mother's 
financial  ease  was  a  matter  of  primary  concern 
to  him.  It  didn't  trouble  Jack  Towns  in  the 
least. 

"  Leave  that  to  me  for  answer,"  the  lawyer 
said,  taking  possession  of  the  letter.  "  The 
man  ought  to  seek  employment  as  an  oyster- 
opener  at  Rockett's.  That's  about  his  size. 
That  mortgage  is  completely  executed.  I've 
72 


THE    SHADOWS    FALL  73 

seen  to  it,  pending  —  other  things.  That  will 
stand,  and,  as  the  property  is  amply  good  for 
it,  the  fellow's  an  idiot  to  want  to  fly  his  bar- 
gain." 

There  was  news  in  the  next  mail  that  could 
not  be  so  lightly  dismissed.  The  family  phy- 
sician wrote  that  Boyd's  mother,  already  in 
feeble  and  precarious  health,  had  been  shocked 
by  the  tidings  of  her  son's  calamity  into  a  con- 
dition that  threatened  the  worst.  This  calam- 
ity was  one  which  even  Boyd  Westover's  stoi- 
cism could  not  face  without  flinching.  From 
childhood  his  affection  for  his  mother  had  been 
a  dominant  passion,  and  since  his  father's  death 
it  had  become  fatherly  as  well  as  filial.  He 
had  jealously  guarded  that  "  little  mother,"  as 
he  called  her,  against  every  shock,  every  care, 
every  breath  of  an  adverse  wind  as  it  were. 
He  had  made  a  veritable  pet  of  her,  and  while 
never  for  a  moment  laying  aside  his  chivalric 
respect  and  reverence,  he  had  added  to  them 
a  certain  big  brotherly  manner  in  which  she 
had  found  joy  untellable.  If  she  wearied  while 
walking  with  him  in  the  house  grounds,  he 
would  pick  her  up,  as  he  might  have  done  with 


74       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

any  child,  and  in  spite  of  her  laughing  pro- 
tests, carry  her  into  the  porch  and  deposit  her 
in  a  hammock.  If  a  light  shone  disagreeably 
in  her  eyes  he  discovered  it  and  shut  it  off 
before  she  became  conscious  of  its  glare.  If 
she  went  to  her  room  to  rest  he  quietly  sta- 
tioned a  maid  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  with 
orders  to  permit  no  noise  and  no  passing  up  or 
down. 

Now  that  news  came  of  this  dearly  loved  lit- 
tle mother's  serious  illness,  the  young  man  was 
made  to  suffer  agonies  by  the  consciousness 
that  her  affliction  was  on  his  account,  so  that 
it  required  all  of  Jack  Towns's  eloquence  to 
convince  him  that  he  was  himself  in  nowise  to 
blame  for  it.  By  way  of  emphasizing  that, 
the  young  lawyer  had  to  put  the  matter  into 
brutally  plain  phrase. 

"  If  you  were  guilty  of  the  crime  of  which 
you  have  been  convicted,  and  for  which  you 
will  have  to  serve  a  term  in  state's  prison,  you 
would  do  well  to  scourge  your  soul  with  a 
whip  of  scorpions  for  your  sin  against  the 
mother  who  bore  you.  As  you  are  innocent 
of  that  and  of  all  other  crimes  you  have  no 


THE    SHADOWS    FALL  75 

right  to  hold  yourself  responsible  for  the  con- 
sequences of  other  people's  mistakes." 

"  Am  I  free  to  go  to  my  mother  while  she 
yet  lives  ?  "  Boyd  asked  in  an  agony  of  appre- 
hension. 

Then  Jack  Towns  lied  —  like  the  generous 
gentleman  he  was. 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  Legally  you  are  free  to 
go  anywhere  you  please  —  to  Mozambique  or 
the  dominions  of  Mumbo  Jumbo  if  you  choose. 
But  you  are  free  only  because  of  the  generous 
confidence  .of  the  Judge  and  the  Common- 
wealth's Attorney  in  your  honor  as  a  gentle- 
man. You  are  bound  by  that  honor  not  to 
leave  Richmond  during  the  days  granted 
you." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  Jack  Towns  had  in  his 
possession  a  letter  addressed  to  him  by  the 
Westover  family  physician  in  which  were 
written  these  words : 

"  Whatever  else  happens,  for  heaven's  sake 
don't  let  Boyd  come  home  now.  The  shock 
of  seeing  him  would  kill  his  mother  out  of 
hand." 

But  Jack  Towns  was  a  lawyer  and  he  found 


76       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

a  better  way  of  putting  the  matter  by  way  of 
accomplishing  his  purpose. 

Still  another  thing  darkened  the  young 
man's  way.  It  was  not  because  of  news,  but 
because  of  no  news  at  all. 

There  was  no  line  in  any  of  his  mails  from 
Margaret  Conway,  the  woman  he  loved  with 
all  his  soul,  the  woman  who  had  plighted  her 
troth  to  him  in  the  impassioned  words  he  so 
well  remembered : 

"  I  am  not  a  woman  to  love  lightly  or  lightly 
to  forget.  Love  seems  to  me  a  holy  thing,  and 
to  trifle  with  it  a  blasphemy.  I  have  given  you 
my  love,  Boyd,  and  there  is  no  power  in  all  the 
universe  that  can  make  me  take  it  back.  Even 
you  could  not  do  that.  Nothing  you  might 
do  —  even  if  it  were  crime  itself  —  could  alter 
the  fact  that  my  love  is  all  yours,  now  and 
forever." 

Upon  reflection,  he  absolved  Margaret  from 
blame,  and  with  good  reason.  Upon  his  first 
accusation  he  had  not  written  to  her  at  all  in 
supplement  to  the  love  letter  of  that  night. 
He  had  regarded  the  whole  matter  as  a  thing 
preposterous,  which  a  hearing  in  the  magis- 


THE    SHADOWS    FALL  77 

trate's  court  would  promptly  dissipate  into  thin 
air,  and  it  had  been  his  kindly  thought  not  to 
tell  her  of  the  absurd  accusation  until  he  could 
tell  her  also  of  the  ridiculous  end  made  of  it 
at  a  court  hearing.  When  at  last  the  matter 
had  assumed  a  serious  aspect  he  had  written 
her  a  letter  in  which  he  had  asserted  his  inno- 
cence but  without  protesting  it  in  any  impas- 
sioned way.  To  that  he  had  added: 

"  Of  course  if  I  am  a  man  of  honor  I  am 
bound  to  offer  you  a  release  from  the  engage- 
ment between  us,  while  if  I  am  not  an  honor- 
able man  but  the  criminal  I  am  accused  of  be- 
ing, you  are  free  to  take  your  release  without 
permission  from  me." 

A  calculation  showed  that  if  that  letter  had 
reached  its  destination  when  it  should,  and  if 
an  answer  had  been  sent  by  the  first  returning 
mail,  he  should  now  have  the  reply.  But  mails 
were  slow  and  uncertain  in  those  days  and  The 
Oaks  lay  far  up  near  the  Blue  Ridge  and  seven 
miles  from  the  post  office.  It  might  easily  have 
happened  that  his  letter  to  Margaret  had  not 
reached  her  as  soon  as  it  should;  or  that  the 
shock  of  it  might  have  unfitted  her  to  reply 


78       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

immediately;  or  that  her  answer  might  have 
been  delayed  in  transmission.  All  these  were 
possibilities,  and  they  comforted  the  young 
man. 

But  as  the  days  went  by  and  still  no  letter 
came  from  Margaret  the  comfort  became  less 
and  less,  until  at  last  he  despaired  and  sum- 
moned his  stoicism  to  his  relief. 

"  Why  should  I  have  expected  her  to  write 
to  me?  "  he  asked  himself.  "  What  obligation 
can  she  owe  to  a  convicted  criminal?  I  was 
a  fool  to  look  for  a  letter.  I  must  bear  my 
burden  alone.  I  must  meet  my  fate  with  a 
calm  mind." 

Then  another  thought  came  to  him. 

"  I  am  living  in  a  fool's  paradise.  Jack 
Towns  professes  still  to  believe  in  me,  and 
perhaps  he  does.  But  how  can  I  expect  any- 
body else  to  do  so?  In  view  of  the  testimony 
against  me,  there  is  no  room  or  reason  for 
doubt  of  my  guilt  in  any  sane  mind.  I  must 
recognize  that  and  face  it  with  what  courage 
I  can.  I  am  a  convicted  criminal,  and  I  must 
expect  everybody  to  regard  me  as  such.  I 
must  go  through  my  life  with  that  brand  upon 


THE    SHADOWS    FALL 


79 


my  brow.  There  is  an  end  of  hope  for  me. 
I  must  simply  endure." 

It  was  characteristic  of  him  that  in  all  this 
melancholy  meditation,  no  thought  of  suicide 
entered  his  mind.  He  had  from  his  youth  up 
held  his  life  in  readiness  for  sacrifice  in  any 
worthy  behalf.  There  was  never  a  time  when 
he  would  not  have  given  it  as  a  forfeit  in  be- 
half of  those  he  loved,  never  a  time  when  he 
would  not  have  laid  it  down  gladly  in  answer 
to  any  call  of  duty.  But  the  cowardly  thought 
of  destroying  it  by  way  of  himself  escaping 
from  intolerable  sufferings  did  not  suggest  it- 
self to  his  brave  young  soul.  It  is  a  man's 
part  to  endure  what  comes  to  a  man,  and  Boyd 
Westover  was  altogether  a  man. 

He  remembered  Margaret's  impassioned 
promise,  and  he  doubted  not  the  sincerity  of 
her  soul  in  giving  it.  But  he  absolved  her 
now  and  accepted  the  result  as  part  and  parcel 
of  the  strangely  bewildering  Fate  that  had 
overtaken  him. 

To  that  effect  he  wrote  to  her  on  the  night 
before  the  day  appointed  for  his  sentencing. 
On  that  day  had  come  to  him  the  crushing 


8o       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

news  of  his  mother's  death,  and  very  bitterly 
he  had  felt  the  cruelty  of  a  fate  that  forbade 
him  even  to  go  home  to  bury  his  dead. 

He  wrote  to  Margaret: 

"  I  find  that  I  have  been  expecting  some 
letter  from  you  in  reply  to  my  late  one.  I 
realize  that  I  had  neither  right  nor  reason  to 
expect  anything  of  the  kind.  I  am  a  convicted 
criminal,  convicted  upon  testimony  so  conclu- 
sive that  no  sane  person  can  doubt  its  truth. 
To-morrow  morning  I  shall  be  sentenced. 
You  can  have  no  relations  with  me.  You  can 
bear  me  no  duty  of  any  kind.  It  is  only  to 
say  this  that  I  write  to  you  now,  to  say  that  I 
hold  you  absolved  from  any  and  all  obligations 
toward  me,  and  that  I  shall  live  and  die  cher- 
ishing in  full  measure  my  faith  in  your  loyalty 
and  truth.  You  are  never  to  let  a  doubt  of 
that  vex  your  mind." 

With  that  he  finally  banished  all  thought  of 
his  past  life,  its  joys,  its  sorrows,  its  aspira- 
tions and  its  apprehensions,  from  his  mind. 

"  How  long  a  sentence  will  they  give  me, 
Jack?  "  he  asked  his  lawyer. 

"  I  don't  know.     The  shortest,  probably,  or 


THE    SHADOWS    FALL  81 

very  nearly  the  shortest  that  the  law  allows; 
not  over  two  years  at  any  rate." 

"  Of  course  it  doesn't  matter,"  Boyd  an- 
swered. "  Two  minutes  or  two  years  of  shame 
are  all  one  to  a  sensitive  man,  and  as  for  the 
'  hard  labor/  I'm  strong  and  well.  I  probably 
shall  not  find  it  interesting  to  grind  stove  lids 
or  do  whatever  else  the  prison  authorities  set 
me  at,  but  at  any  rate  the  work  will  occupy  the 
time  and  prevent  me  from  thinking  too  deeply. 
It  will  tire  me,  too,  so  that  I  shall  sleep  of 
nights." 

Jack  Towns  found  nothing  to  say  by  way  of 
reply,  and  he  said  nothing.  Presently  Boyd 
drew  a  package  of  papers  from  his  pocket  and 
passed  it  over  to  the  man  he  regarded  as  the 
one  friend  left  him  in  all  the  world  now. 

"  Perhaps  you'd  better  look  into  that,"  he 
said.  "  It  may  help  Wanalah  out  of  difficulty. 
I  don't  know.  The  thing  came  in  my  mail  a 
week  ago,  but  it  didn't  interest  me  then  and 
I  slipped  it  into  my  pocket  and  forgot  all  about 
it.  No,  don't  bother  with  it  now.  Read  it 
later.  Just  now  I  have  something  else  to  talk 
to  you  about.  You've  promised  to  look  after 


82        WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

my  affairs  while  I'm  in  prison,  and  there's  one 
thing  I  want  to  ask  you.  Don't  let  the  over- 
seer at  Wanalah  work  the  servants  too  hard. 
There  is  no  need.  With  only  ordinary  crops 
the  plantation  can  easily  carry  its  load  now, 
and  I  don't  want  the  people  there  overworked. 
See  to  it  please.  Now  if  you  don't  mind,  I'm 
going  to  bed.  To-morrow  night  I'll  lie  in  a 
cell." 

With  that  the  young  man  withdrew,  and 
after  half  an  hour  of  sad  gazing  at  the  moon- 
light that  streamed  in  through  the  window, 
Jack  Towns  turned  up  the  gas  and  set  to  work 
reading  the  papers  that  had  failed  to  interest 
their  owner.  They  interested  Jack  Towns 
amazingly,  and  he  had  no  sooner  finished  the 
reading  of  them  than  he  hurried  unceremoni- 
ously into  Boyd's  room,  and  shaking  him  said : 

"  Here,  get  up.  This  thing  must  be  at- 
tended to  immediately.  There  are  papers  to 
be  drawn  and  executed  at  once.  So  hustle  into 
some  clothes  quick/' 


IX 

THE    COURAGE   OF    WOMANHOOD 

WHEN  rumors  came  to  The  Oaks  of 
Boyd  Westover's  trouble,  Margaret 
Conway's  first  impulse  was  to  drive 
over  to  Wanalah  and  comfort  Boyd's  mother 
with  assurances  that  there  could  be  no  truth  in 
the  reports.  Margaret  had  always  cherished  a 
very  tender  affection  for  Mrs.  Westover,  and 
during  the  brief  time  since  her  love  had  been 
pledged  to  Boyd,  she  had  found  that  affection 
rapidly  taking  upon  itself  the  character  of  a 
girl's  tenderness  for  her  mother.  Having 
never  known  a  mother  of  her  own,  the  girl 
was  quick  to  make  herself  a  daughter  in  affec- 
tion where  she  was  presently  to  become  a 
daughter  in  law  and  in  fact.  She  drove  every 
day  to  Wanalah  and  spent  loving  hours  there 
with  the  gentle  invalid  who  had  so  warmly 
welcomed  her  daughterly  love. 
83 


84       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

But  when  the  evil  news  of  Bevel's  convic- 
tion came  and  Margaret  planned  to  go  earlier 
than  usual  to  Wanalah,  Colonel  Conway  ob- 
jected. 

"  You  will  only  distress  yourself  and  afflict 
her,"  he  said.  "  This  thing  will  be  your  only 
topic  of  conversation,  and  what  can  either  of 
you  say  that  will  bring  comfort  to  the  other  ?  " 

"  I  can  tell  her  I  love  her  and  that  I  loyally 
believe  in  Boyd,"  answered  the  girl  with  all 
the  pride  of  her  race  in  her  voice  and  attitude. 

"  But  how  can  you  say  that,  daughter,  in 
face  of  the  evidence?" 

"  It  isn't  evidence  —  it's  merely  testimony. 
The  evidence  lies  in  Boyd  Westover's  character 
and  it  flatly  contradicts  the  testimony.  The 
testimony  is  false;  the  evidence  is  subject  to 
no  possible  question.  I'm  sorry  you  don't  see 
it  so,  Father." 

The  old  man  paced  the  floor  for  a  space  and 
then  answered : 

"  Perhaps  I  do  see  it  so.  I'd  like  to,  at  any 
rate;  I'm  strongly  disposed  to  give  the  young 
man  the  benefit  of  the  doubt,  but  — 

"  There   isn't   any   doubt,"    interjected   the 


COURAGE  OF  WOMANHOOD      85 

passionate  girl  with  vehemence.  "  There  isn't 
any  doubt,  and  I  shall  quarrel  even  with  you, 
Father,  if  you  suggest  such  a  thing." 

"  Be  calm,  my  child,"  pleaded  the  old  man 
placatively.  "  Perhaps  you  are  right.  I'm  dis- 
posed to  take  your  view  —  strongly  so.  But 
there's  your  Aunt  Betsy,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  She's  the  only  human  being 
you  were  ever  afraid  of,  Father.  But  you're 
afraid  of  her  as  everybody  else  is  —  everybody 
but  me.  I  don't  know  why." 

"  But  your  Aunt  Betsy  presents  the  matter 
in  a  way  that  must  be  considered.  She 
says  —  " 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  she  says,"  interrupted  the 
overwrought  girl.  "  She  has  said  it  all  to  me, 
over  and  over  again.  She  urges  the  conven- 
tions —  the  cowardly  shams  and  falsities  of 
our  artificial  life.  She  talks  of  '  what  people 
will  say/  as  if  it  made  any  difference  what 
people  say  when  we  know  we  are  doing  right. 
You  know  that  Boyd  Westover  is  an  honorable 
man,  just  as  I  know  it.  If  you  hadn't  been 
afraid  of  Aunt  Betsy,  you'd  have  done  your 
duty  like  a  man;  you'd  have  gone  to  Boyd's 


86       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

side.  You'd  have  stood  by  him  in  his  hour 
of  need  —  " 

"  But,  Margaret,  what  good  would  that  have 
done  in  face  of  the  evidence  or  the  testimony, 
for  I  agree  with  you  that  there's  a  difference?  " 

"  It  would  have  strengthened  and  encour- 
aged him  with  the  assurance  that  one  brave 
man  at  least  knew  his  character  and  was  ready 
to  face  calumny  with  an  assertion  of  his  con- 
fidence. But  you  were  afraid  of  Aunt  Betsy. 
It  is  the  only  cowardice  I  ever  knew  you  to  be 
guilty  of.  She  talks  of  placing  '  blots  on  our 
escutcheon  '  —  as  if  we  had  an  escutcheon, 
whatever  that  sort  of  thing  may  be ;  I  tell  you 
the  worst  blot  of  all  was  made  by  your  failure 
to  go  to  Richmond  and  stand  by  Boyd  in  his 
undeserved  trouble.  You  played  the  part  of  a 
coward  there.  Pardon  me  if  my  words  are 
harsh.  I  feel  them  and  mean  them.  Now  I 
am  going  to  Wanalah.  I,  at  least,  will  do  my 
part  as  a  descendant  of  a  brave  race,  if  all  the 
demons  of  perdition  stand  in  the  way." 

With  that  the  girl  moved  proudly  out  of  the 
house,  mounted  the  horse  that  a  negro  held 
waiting  for  her,  and  rode  away. 


COURAGE  OF  WOMANHOOD      87 

She  did  not  return  until  after  the  funeral  at 
Wanalah,  which  her  father  and  her  aunt  at- 
tended, and  when  she  returned,  her  attitude 
was  one  of  stately  reserve  which  appalled  her 
father  and  "  grieved  "  her  aunt. 

In  the  meanwhile  she  had  written  every  day 
a  loyal  letter  to  Boyd  Westover. 

Not  one  of  those  letters  ever  reached  him. 
Nor  did  any  of  his  letters  come  to  her.  Aunt 
Betsy  had  deemed  it  her  "  duty  to  the  family  " 
to  see  to  that,  and  Aunt  Betsy  prided  herself 
upon  doing  her  duty,  no  matter  how  disagree- 
able it  might  be  —  to  others. 

But  the  failure  of  the  missives  left  Margaret 
in  sorely  distressing  perplexity.  Why  did  not 
Boyd  write  to  her?  Why  did  he  not  take  her 
into  his  confidence  ?  Especially  why  did  he  not 
respond,  in  some  way,  to  her  repeated  avowals 
of  splendid  loyalty  and  confidence? 

She  could  not  understand.  She  could  not 
even  inquire.  She  could  only  mourn. 


X 


THE    PACKET    OF    PAPERS 

JACK  TOWNS  was  accustomed  to  have 
about  him  whatever  there  was  that  could 
make  his  hard-working  life  comfortable, 
if  any  reasonable  expenditure  of  money  could 
secure  it.  And  he  interpreted  the  words 
"  reasonable  expenditure,"  in  that  connection, 
rather  liberally.  His  income  was  large  and  he 
had  nobody  anywhere  dependent  upon  him. 
Accordingly  he  was  one  of  the  two  or  three 
self-indulgent  men  in  Richmond  at  that  time, 
who  possessed  a  set  bath  tub  with  water  taps 
running  into  it  and  a  showering  apparatus 
above. 

When  he  roused  his  friend  that  night,  after 
hurriedly  running  through  the  packet  of  pa- 
pers, he  was  full  of  an  eagerness  and  enthusi- 
asm which  the  other  did  not  seem  to  share. 
Boyd  Westover  was  sleepy,  and  worse  still,  in 
88 


THE   PACKET   OF   PAPERS        89 

his  present  case,  he  was  indifferent.  What 
good  could  a  packet  of  papers  or  anything  else 
bring  to  a  man  disgraced,  condemned,  -doomed 
to  a  life  of  lost  repute?  He  heartily  wished 
that  Jack  had  kept  the  papers  and  done  what- 
ever he  pleased  with  them  after  the  closing  of 
the  prison  doors  behind  himself  on  the  ap- 
proaching day.  But  in  response  to  Jack's  in- 
sistence, he  arose,  drew  on  a  light  dressing 
gown  and  slippers,  and  offered  his  dully  unin- 
terested presence  in  Jack's  dining  room. 

Promptly  recognizing  his  condition  of  mind, 
Jack  took  matters  into  his  own  hands,  after  a 
masterful  habit  he  had.  He  seized  Boyd  by 
the  elbow  and  led  him  into  the  bath  room. 

"  There,"  he  said ;  "  lay  off  your  gown  and 
pull  your  toes  out  of  those  slippers.  Hop  into 
the  tub  and  I'll  wake  you  up." 

At  the  next  instant  the  cold  shower  de- 
'scended  upon  the  young  man's  head  and  per- 
son, and  Jack  continued  his  chatter. 

"  Now  you're  awake,  rub  yourself  down  and 
come  into  the  dining  room.  I've  got  to  have 
you  awake  and  you  and  I  are  going  to  work 
all  night.  I've  sent  Dick  for  half  a  hundred 


9o       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

oysters  and  a  dozen  bottles  of  cold  ale,  and 
later  he'll  make  black  coffee  for  us.  Hurry  up 
now,  and  *  do  try  to  be  interested  '  as  a  bash- 
ful friend  of  mine  said  to  a  girl  when  he  was 
about  to  propose  to  her." 

As  he  left  the  bath  room  abruptly,  Boyd 
made  no  reply  until  he  joined  the  lawyer  in  the 
dining  room  where  the  papers  from  the  packet 
lay  spread  out  in  the  order  in  which  they  were 
to  be  taken  up  for  consideration.  Then  he 
said: 

"  I  will  try  to  be  interested,  Jack ;  for  your 
sake  I'll  do  my  best.  But  what  interest  can 
a  man  in  my  position  feel  in  anything?  " 

"  Now  listen  to  me,  Boyd !  "  Jack  Towns 
said  commandingly,  and  rising  to  his  feet  to 
say  it.  "  Listen  to  me.  You  are  morbid.  You 
need  calomel  or  something.  You're  the  victim 
of  some  mistake  and  you're  in  sore  trouble. 
But  you  are  not  disgraced.  Nobody  can 
disgrace  a  man  but  the  man  himself.  You 
are  conscious  of  your  own  honor;  what  mat- 
ters it  what  others  think?  Besides,  no  hon- 
est man  in  Virginia  believes  that  you  are 
guilty  of  a  sneaking  crime  or  capable  of  it. 


THE   PACKET   OF   PAPERS        91 

The  jury  that  convicted  you  didn't  believe  it 
and  not  one  of  them  believes  it  now.  The 
Judge  who  will  sentence  you  doesn't  believe  it. 
If  the  envious  and  malignant  falsely  pretend 
to  believe  it,  why  should  you  care  for  the  des- 
picable pretense  of  people  so  utterly  unwor- 
thy? If  cowards  fight  shy  of  your  acquaint- 
ance, lest  recognition  of  you  should  compro- 
mise themselves,  why  should  you  care  for  the 
acquaintance  of  such  poltroons?  You  are 
Westover  of  Wanalah  —  inheritor  of  an  hon- 
orable name.  You  will  be  that  so  long  as  you 
shall  live.  It  behoves  you  to  bear  that  name 
with  head  erect  and  with  contempt  alone  for 
those  who  do  not  recognize  your  worthiness 
to  bear  it.  This  affair  is  an  unfortunate  inci- 
dent. It  will  soon  be  over,  and  you  will  have 
a  lifetime  before  you  in  which  to  teach  men 
the  falsity  of  the  accusation  against  you. 
There.  My  lecture  is  done.  Let  us  get  to 
these  papers.  They  hold  great  news  for  you." 

When  the  two  were  seated,  Jack  took  up  a 
letter,  which  was  first  of  the  papers  in  the 
order  of  consideration. 

"  This  is  from  a  firm  of  lawyers,  Dodge, 


92        WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

Denslow  and  Deming  of  Denver  —  charm- 
ingly alliterative  throughout  —  do  you  happen 
to  know  who  they  are?  " 

"  Yes,  in  a  way.  There  was  a  memorandum 
among  my  father's  papers,  that  mentioned 
them." 

"  Well,  go  on.  What  did  it  say,  or  reveal, 
or  suggest?  This  is  business,  Boyd.  Put 
your  thinking  machine  on  it." 

"  I  will,  —  to  oblige  you,  Jack.  The  memo- 
randum catalogued  a  long  list  of  mining  lands 
and  mining  claims  somewhere  up  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains  or  in  some  side  issue  of  a  range  — 
you'll  find  the  paper  in  my  desk  at  home  — 
lands  and  claims  which  my  father  had  bought 
during  one  of  his  journeys  out  that  way  and 
had  placed  in  my  name,  as  a  provision  for  me 
in  case  of  accident." 

"  That  accounts  for  these  papers  being  in 
your  name  and  not  your  father's,"  interrupted 
Jack.  "  I  was  puzzled  by  that.  But  go  on. 
I  want  to  hear  all  about  it." 

{(  Well,  you  know  my  father  was  an  optimist 
—  a  dreamer  almost  —  and  he  was  possessed 
of  an  idea,  reflected  in  the  memorandum,  that 


THE   PACKET   OF   PAPERS        93 

these  things  would  make  the  future  Westover 
of  Wanalah  —  myself  or  my  son  if  I  should 
have  one  —  enormously  rich.  As  nearly  as  I 
could  make  out,  the  multitudinous  lands  and 
mining  claims  he  bought  in  my  name  covered 
a  large  area  of  entirely  untillable  and  not  very 
accessible  land  somewhere  up  in  the  high 
mountains,  where  grub-staked  miners  scratched 
the  surface  for  silver  ore,  with  now  and  then 
a  little  find  of  gold.  They  worked  on  shares 
somehow,  and  this  law  firm  collected  my  share 
from  time  to  time  and  remitted  it.  It  was  so 
small  a  part  of  the  assets  of  the  estate  that  I've 
forgotten  how  much  it  was.  That's  all  I  know 
of  Dodge,  Denslow  &  Deming." 

"  You're  likely  to  know  a  good  deal  more 
about  them  hereafter,"  said  Jack,  "  if  I  can 
awaken  in  your  mind  a  reasonable  interest  in 
a  matter  that  promises  to  make  you  the  richest 
man  in  Virginia,  twice  or  thrice  over." 

"  Cui  bono  ?  "  responded  Boyd.  "  When  my 
prison  term  ends  I  shall  have  enough,  without 
that,  to  feed  me,  and  I've  nobody  else  to 
feed." 

"  Boyd  Westover,  if  you  go  on  in  that  mood, 


94       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

I'll  chuck  you  into  the  bath  tub  again  and  set 
the  shower  going  without  giving  you  a  chance 
to  shed  your  clothes.  Can't  you  see  that  when 
you  —  when  —  well,  when  present  difficulties 
are  over,  this  thing  will  give  you  an  interest 
in  life,  something  to  occupy  your  mind,  some- 
thing to  manage  and  —  oh,  I  forgot,  you  don't 
know  the  facts  yet.  It  appears  from  these 
papers  —  we  won't  bother  now  to  read  them 
in  detail  —  that  the  mining  lands  your  father 
bought  in  your  name,  have  proved  to  be  about 
the  richest  in  the  world.  They  cover  practi- 
cally all  of  one  of  the  richest  deposits  of  gold, 
silver,  lead,  and  quicksilver,  ever  discovered. 
Listen.  This  is  the  way  Jake  Greenfield  puts 
it  in  a  letter.  Jake  seems  to  be  a  shrewd  Yan- 
kee whom  your  lawyers  have  established  on 
the  lands  to  watch  operations  and  prevent  tres- 
pass. He  writes  to  the  lawyers: 

" '  I  don't  s'pose  Mr.  Westover  nor  you 
neither's  got  a  krect  idee  of  what  he's  got  up 
here.  It's  like  an  injun's  blanket,  with  fringes 
all  round  it.  He's  got  the  blanket  an'  these 
fellers  what's  opened  up  mines  north  an'  south 


THE   PACKET   OF   PAPERS        95 

of  him  has  got  the  fringes.  Nachurly  they's 
a  tryin'  to  git  in  under  the  blanket,  but  I'm  a 
watchin'  out  an'  they're  a  doin'  no  trespassin'. 
They's  got  the  fence  corners  an'  Mr.  West- 
stover's  got  the  field.  They's  plannin'  to  buy 
him  out  an'  they's  got  experts  an'  engineers  an' 
lawyers  enuff  here  to  run  a  ship  or  an  orphan 
asylum.  My  say  to  Mr.  West  Stover  is  don't 
bargain  with  'em  till  you  know  for  yourself. 
That  used  to  be  our  way  in  Varmont,  whare  I 
come  from.  This  is  my  wink  to  a  blind  hoss, 
an'  a  nod  with  it' 

"  The  lawyers  seem  to  have  taken  Jake 
Greenfield's  counsel  seriously,  so  far  at  least 
as  to  send  experts  of  their  own  to  study  the 
situation,  and  these  seem  to  confirm  Jake's 
judgment.  So  do  these  other  letters,  from  the 
mining  men  who  want  to  buy  you  out.  I'll 
read  them." 

"  Can't  you  summarize  them  in  your  own 
words,  Jack?  "  interrupted  Boyd.  "  The  thing 
doesn't  greatly  interest  me,  and  —  " 

"  Well,  listen  then,  and  perhaps  I  can 
awaken  your  interest.  These  people  it  appears 


96        WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

are  amply  backed  by  New  York  and  Boston 
bankers.  In  fact  the  bankers  really  constitute 
the  company,  and  they  seem  to  know  their  own 
minds.  They  have  spent  some  hundreds  of 
thousands  in  setting  up  machinery  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing,  and  they  say  their  mining  opera- 
tions are  paying  heavy  dividends  —  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  per  cent,  on  their  investment. 
But  the  richest  leads  or  lodes  or  veins  or  what- 
ever they  are  called,  lie  beneath  your  land. 
You've  got  the  blanket  and  they  only  the 
fringe,  as  Jake  picturesquely  puts  it.  They 
want  to  buy  the  blanket,  or  get  in  under  it 
somehow,  and  they're  prepared  to  pay  for  what 
they  want.  They  propose  to  organize  a  new 
company  to  work  the  whole  thing;  they  to 
put  in  their  plant,  their  costly  machinery,  their 
mining  privileges  and  all  their  other  assets,  and 
you  to  put  in  your  mineral  lands.  They  make 
you  a  flat  offer  of  nine  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars in  money,  and  thirty-nine  per  cent,  of  the 
stock  of  the  new  company,  if  you  will  join 
them  in  this  project  by  ceding  your  lands,  min- 
ing rights,  etc.,  to  the  joint  concern.  Perhaps 
they  can  be  induced  to  do  better  even  than 


THE   PACKET   OF   PAPERS        97 

that,  as  they  seem  very  eager,  but  that  is  what 
they  offer  to  begin  with.  It  means  fabulous 
wealth  to  you  if  their  hopes  as  to  the  profits 
of  the  new  company  are  measurably  fulfilled, 
and  even  if  they  are  not  fulfilled  at  all  it  means 
that  you  can  wear  Wanalah  plantation  as  a 
watch  charm  for  all  your  life  to  come.  Isn't 
that  a  fine  prospect?  " 

Jack  was  disappointed  in  Boyd's  reply.  He 
had  hoped  that  this  startling  happening  might 
awaken  his  friend  to  a  new  interest  in  life  and 
life's  affairs,  but,  after  swallowing  two  oys- 
ters and  slowly  sipping  half  a  glass  of  ale,  the 
unfortunate  young  man  said,  in  a  melancholy 
tone: 

"  I  suppose  the  thing  ought  to  be  looked 
into.  If  I  were  a  free  man  again,  I'd  make 
my  way  out  into  those  wilds  and  see  what 
could  be  done.  As  it  is  —  " 

"  As  it  is,"  broke  in  Jack  Towns,  "  you're 
going  to  execute  a  sweeping  power  of  attorney 
authorizing  me  to  act  for  you,  and  I'm  going 
out  there.  When  you  —  well,  I  mean  later,  — 
you'll  take  hold  of  the  thing  yourself,  and  those 
hustling  fellows  out  there  will  wake  you  up, 


g8       WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

if  I  can't.  Go  to  bed  now,  if  you  feel  like  it. 
I'll  prepare  the  power  of  attorney  and  you  can 
execute  it  at  breakfast  time.  I  must  say  you're 
uncommonly  bad  company." 

"  I  suppose  I  am,"  said  Boyd  as  he  shuffled 
off  to  his  bedroom. 


XI 

THE  EVENTS    OF   A   MORNING 

IT  was  with  a  firm  step  and  with  head  erect, 
and,  more  significant  still,  with  eyes  that 
looked  straight  into  other  eyes  without  a 
suggestion  of  flinching,  that  Boyd  Westover 
entered  the  court  room  on  the  morning  ap- 
pointed   for   the   pronouncement   of   sentence 
upon   him.      Jack   Towns,    who    accompanied 
him,  thought  he  had  never  seen  so  superb  an 
exhibition  of  stoicism  as  that  which  Boyd  had 
given  throughout  this  affair. 

"  But  this  caps  the  climax,"  he  said  to  the 
Commonwealth's  Attorney,  whose  drawn  fea- 
tures showed  clearly  the  distress  he  felt  in  view 
of  the  duty  he  had  to  do  in  moving  that  sen- 
tence be  pronounced  upon  his  old  schoolmate, 
his  boyhood's  comrade,  whom  he  had  been 
compelled  to  prosecute  and  convict  of  an  in- 
famous crime.  * 
99 


ioo     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  Just  look  at  him,"  Jack  whispered.  "  For 
all  that  his  appearance  or  his  manner  could 
mean  you'd  think  he  had  come  here  to  deliver 
an  oration  on  some  distinguished  occasion. 
It's  simply  magnificent !  " 

"  It  is  simply  horrible  —  my  part  of  it,  I 
mean,"  answered  the  other  with  a  suppressed 
groan. 

There  was  no  further  time  for  conversation. 
The  moment  had  come  when  Boyd  Westover 
must  be  called  to  the  bar  to  receive  the  sen- 
tence of  the  court.  The  Commonwealth's  At- 
torney made  the  necessary  motion  in  a  voice 
that  could  hardly  be  heard  because  of  his  lack 
of  control  over  his  organs  of  speech.  The 
Judge  tried  hard  to  deliver  the  little  address 
he  had  carefully  prepared  as  a  means  of  sug- 
gesting what  he  could  not  say  —  that  in  spite 
of  everything  he  could  not  personally  regard 
Boyd  Westover  as  a  man  actually  guilty  of 
crime.  His  voice  behaved  so  badly  that  after 
a  futile  attempt  he  gave  up  the  effort  to  say 
anything,  except  the  formal  words  that  con- 
demned the  prisoner  to  serve  a  term  at  hard 
labor  in  the  State  prison. 


EVENTS    OF   A    MORNING      101 

The  term  fixed  by  the  sentence  was  the  short- 
est that  the  law  allowed,  but  what  comfort  was 
there  in  that  to  a  sensitive  man  like  Boyd  West- 
over,  to  whom  disgrace  for  half  a  minute 
meant  the  same  thing  as  disgrace  for  all  time  ? 
It  is  doubtful  that  he  even  grasped  the  mean- 
ing of  the  words  used  in  limiting  the  sentence 
to  the  briefest  time  allowed. 

As  there  were  papers  to  be  made  out  and 
signed,  Jack  Towns  and  his  client  sat  for  a 
brief  while  waiting.  Presently  there  was  a 
little  commotion  in  the  outer  corridor  and  a 
moment  later  a  bailiff  hurriedly  entered  and 
made  his  way  to  the  Commonwealth's  Attor- 
ney, to  whom  he  whispered  excitedly.  That 
officer  asked  a  brief  question  or  two  under  his 
breath.  Then  he  turnexl  to  the  court  and  said, 
while  all  listened  with  the  greatest  interest : 

"  If  your  honor  please,  something  has  hap- 
pened —  something  out  of  the  ordinary,  some- 
thing important,  something  which  if  I  am  cor- 
rectly informed  vitally  concerns  business  now 
before  the  court.  I  ask  to  be  excused  for  a 
few  minutes  in  order  that  I  may  learn  the  facts 
and  report  them  to  the  court." 


102      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

With  that,  receiving  a  nod  of  approval  from 
the  Judge,  he  withdrew. 

When  he  had  gone  the  Judge  said : 

"  We  may  as  well  save  what  we  can  of  the 
time  of  waiting.  Mr.  Clerk,  if  you  have  the 
papers  ready  in  the  Westover  case  I'll  sign 
them." 

They  were  passed  to  him  and,  after  he  had 
signed  them,  handed  over  to  the  sheriff,  thus 
completing  that  matter  at  once. 

A  moment  later,  the  Commonwealth's  At- 
torney returned,  pale  to  the  lips,  trembling  like 
one  in  an  ague  fit,  and  with  the  muscles  about 
his  mouth  twitching  in  a  way  that  was  posi- 
tively painful  to  all  who  looked  at  him. 

In  a  voice  that  was  hard,  metallic,  and  obvi- 
ously controlled  only  by  a  supreme  effort  of 
the  will,  he  addressed  the  court. 

"  There  has  been  a  terrible  mistake  made," 
he  said  with  none  of  the  formalities  of  speech 
usual  in  addressing  a  tribunal,  — "  a  disas- 
trous, cruel,  irreparable  mistake,  for  my  share 
in  which  I  hide  my  head  in  shame  as  I  ask  God 
and  man  to  pardon  me.  In  convicting  and 
sentencing  Boyd  Westover,  we  have  convicted 


EVENTS    OF   A    MORNING     103 

and  sentenced  an  innocent  man.  The  real  cul- 
prit is  now  in  a  jury  room  adjoining  this  apart- 
ment. He  has  been  caught  in  a  repetition  of 
the  act  for  which  Boyd  Westover  has  been 
convicted  and  sentenced.  He  has  confessed 
that  he  was  the  offender  on  the  former  occa- 
sion, and  the  committing  magistrate  before 
whom  he  was  brought  this  morning  has 
brought  him  hither  to  repeat  his  confession 
and  to  let  your  honor  look  upon  him.  It  is 
the  most  phenomenal  case  of  mistaken  identity 
I  ever  knew  or  heard  of.  Even  fiction,  with 
its  limitless  license  of  invention,  offers  no  par- 
allel that  I  ever  heard  of.  The  resemblance 
between  this  man  and  Boyd  Westover  is  so 
perfect,  so  startling  in  its  completeness  that  I 
could  never  have  believed  it  upon  any  testi- 
mony other  than  that  of  my  own  eyes.  I  ask 
permission  to  bring  the  prisoner  into  court." 

By  this  time  the  court  room  was  packed  with 
all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men,  for  the  news 
of  what  had  happened  during  the  night  before 
had  spread  like  wildfire  over  the  city. 

A  minute  later  the  prisoner,  who  gave  his 
name  as  "  Dolly  Andrews,"  but  admitted  that 


io4      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  Dolly  "  was  short  for  Adolphus,  was  brought 
to  the  bar.  At  the  Commonwealth's  Attor- 
ney's request,  Boyd  Westover  moved  forward 
and  stood  by  his  side. 

The  two  men  were  precisely  alike  in  size, 
form  and  feature,  but  strangely  unlike  in  ex- 
pression. As  Jack  Towns  put  the  matter: 
"  Boyd  Westover,  being  a  gentleman,  looks 
into  your  eyes  when  he  speaks  to  you  or  you 
to  him;  the  other  fellow  looks  anywhere  but 
at  you.  In  the  one  face  there  is  intelligence,  — 
in  the  other  a  low  cunning ;  in  the  one  an  alert 
outlook,  in  the  other  a  look  of  morbid  intro- 
spection. Still  the  two  men  are  absolutely 
alike  in  all  physical  respects  —  more  alike  than 
I  supposed  that  even  twins  could  be.  I  could 
myself  easily  mistake  one  for  the  other,  and  I 
don't  wonder  that  a  lot  of  excited  school  girls, 
routed  out  of  bed  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
and  with  only  bedroom  candles  to  see  by,  made 
the  terrible  mistake  they  did." 

The  problem  now  was  what  to  do.  Fortu- 
nately the  committing  magistrate  was  a  man  of 
wise  discretion.  He  presented  himself  in  court 
and  said  to  the  Judge : 


EVENTS    OF   A    MORNING 

"  I  have  not  yet  committed  this  man,  though 
he  was  caught  in  the  act  and  has  made  full 
confession,  both  as  to  his  present  offence  and 
as  to  the  former  crime,  of  which  another  has 
been  mistakenly  convicted.  I  have  thought  it 
better  to  bring  him  before  your  honor  and  ask 
you  to  sit  as  committing  magistrate  in  the  case, 
in  order  that  you  may  yourself  hear  his  confes- 
sion. It  has  seemed  to  me  that  this  course 
was  best  in  aid  of  justice  in  another  case." 

After  an  exchange  of  dignified  compliments, 
the  Judge,  sitting  as  a  committing  magistrate, 
heard  the  case.  During  the  preceding  night 
there  had  been  an  alarm  of  "  burglars  "  in  Le 
Voiser's  school.  As  before,  the  matron  mar- 
shalled her  charges  for  retreat,  but  this  time 
there  were  two  stalwart  men  on  the  premises 
and  awaiting  call.  Monsieur  Le  Voiser  had 
looked  out  for  that,  by  ordering  his  furnace 
man  and  his  steward  to  sleep  in  a  room  within 
convenient  call,  and  when  the  intruder  at- 
tempted to  escape  they  were  there  to  seize  and 
hold  him  by  physical  force. 

They  testified  to  the  facts. 

Then  the  culprit  repeated  the  confession  he 


io6     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

had  already  made.  He  seemed  in  no  way 
ashamed,  and  he  did  not  hesitate.  He  declared 
that  it  was  he,  and  not  Boyd  Westover,  who 
had  invaded  the  school  on  the  former  occasion, 
and  when  asked  what  his  motive  was,  he  dis- 
claimed all  purposes  of  robbery  and  sought  to 
justify  himself  by  the  solemn  declaration : 

"  On  both  occasions  I  went  there  under  the 
command  of  the  Supreme  Being." 

"  Just  what  do  you  mean  by  that?"  asked 
the  Judge,  testily. 

"  I  am  divinely  commissioned  to  marry 
Miss  —  " 

"Stop!"  commanded  the  Judge.  "Don't 
mention  the  young  lady's  name.  Just  say  '  a 
certain  young  lady.'  We  won't  have  her  name 
dragged  into  the  case." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  culprit.  "  It  is  only 
that  I  am  acting  under  a  divine  commission  and 
have  nothing  to  conceal.  I  must  marry  the 
young  lady  in  question.  I  met  her  in  the  street 
once,  and  talked  to  her  on  the  subject.  She 
mistook  me  for  Boyd  Westover,  and  I  thought 
it  best  to  use  that  name  in  my  dealings  with 
her.  You  see,  Judge,  when  one  is  divinely 


EVENTS    OF   A    MORNING      107 

commissioned  to  achieve  a  purpose,  details 
make  no  difference." 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  Judge;  "omit  expla- 
nations and  arguments,  and  tell  what  hap- 
pened." 

"  The  young  lady  rejected  my  addresses. 
I  was  not  discouraged  by  that.  I  had  been 
divinely  warned  to  expect  it.  I  wrote  her 
many  notes,  but  she  did  not  reply  to  them. 
Then  I  saw  my  duty  clearly.  I  decided  to  use 
gentle  force  and  carry  her  away  with  me, 
leaving  the  divine  influence  to  chasten  her 
proud  spirit  and  teach  her  the  duty  of  loving 
me.  I  have  been  twice  defeated  in  my  endeav- 
ors. I  shall  succeed  when  the  appointed  time 
is  ripe.  I  must  be  patient  and  faithful,  that  is 
all." 

"  After  all,"  whispered  Jack  Towns  to  the 
Commonwealth's  Attorney,  "  that  hysterical 
girl  who  said  he  had  come  to  abduct  her  was 
right,  except  in  her  identification  of  the  man." 

"  Yes,  but  the  exception  is  one  of  disastrous 
consequences.  Help  me,  Towns,  to  right  this 
wrong!  I'll  never  do  the  like  again.  I'll 
never  prosecute  another  case  so  long  as  I  live. 


io8     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

I've  already  sent  in  my  resignation  from  of- 
fice." 

"  You're  a  sublimated  idiot,"  said  Jack. 
"  Listen.  The  Judge  is  speaking." 

"  I  will  commit  this  man  to  await  the  action 
of  the  Grand  Jury,"  the  Judge  said.  "  In  the 
meanwhile  the  Court  suggests  to  the  Common- 
wealth's Attorney  the  propriety  of  asking  for 
a  commission  in  lunacy  to  inquire  into  this 
man's  sanity." 

Thus  spurred  out  of  the  lethargic  collapse 
into  which  he  had  fallen,  the  official  prosecu- 
tor made  the  necessary  motion  and  the  court 
promptly  appointed  the  commission. 

Then  Jack  Towns  arose  to  ask: 

"  What  is  to  be  done  to  right  the  wrong  in 
the  case  of  my  client?  And  more  especially, 
what  is  to  be  done  to  prevent  the  aggravation 
of  that  wrong?  I  call  attention  to  the  fact 
that  the  papers  committing  this  obviously  in- 
nocent man  to  the  penitentiary  are  already  in 
the  hands  of  the  sheriff,  who  has  no  right  to 
exercise  discretion  in  the  case.  In  the  ordinary 
course  of  events  my  client,  innocent  of  offence 
as  he  obviously  is,  must  pass  the  portals  of  the 


EVENTS    OF    A    MORNING 


109 


prison  within  the  hour.  I  ask  the  court  to  pre- 
vent this  crowning  wrong  in  a  case  in  which 
enough  and  too  much  of  wrong  has  been  done 
already." 

The  Judge  was  in  full  sympathy,  but  for 
order's  sake  he  asked  if  the  Commonwealth's 
Attorney  desired  to  be  heard  in  opposition  to 
the  request  of  the  counsel. 

"  Not  in  opposition,"  said  the  official,  "  but 
in  full  and  hearty  sympathy.  I  feel  that  a 
great  wrong  has  been  done;  I  feel  this  so 
strongly  that  I  have  sent  to  the  proper  author- 
ity my  resignation  of  the  office  I  hold,  in  order 
that  I  may  never  again  have  part  or  lot  in  a 
wrong  so  grievous.  I  earnestly  second  the  re- 
quest of  the  counsel  for  the  prisoner  that  every- 
thing shall  be  done  which  the  law  permits,  to 
prevent  further  wrong  and  to  right  the  wrong 
already  done." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  Judge.  "  The  sheriff 
is  ordered  to  return  to  the  clerk  the  papers  in 
his  possession.  The  prisoner  is  paroled  in  the 
custody  of  his  counsel,  to  await  further  pro- 
ceedings. Unfortunately  the  court  knows  of 
no  process  of  law  by  which  the  fact  of  this 


no     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

innocent  man's  conviction  and  sentence  can  be 
undone.  It  is  not  within  the  power  of  man  to 
make  that  not  to  be  which  has  been.  The 
court  cannot  undo  the  proceedings  that  have 
been  had  in  this  case.  It  can  only  make  an 
earnest  effort  to  prevent  the  wrongful  results 
of  those  proceedings.  To  that  end  I  purpose 
to  go  in  person  before  the  Governor  of  the 
State  to  ask  for  the  fullest  reparation  that  can 
be  made,  namely,  a  pardon  —  pardon  for  a 
crime  that  has  not  been  committed.  It  seems 
almost  a  mockery,  but  it  is  the  best  that  is  pos- 
sible under  the  law.  In  order  to  give  all  the 
emphasis  I  can  to  the  proceedings,  I  shall  ad- 
journ court  for  a  time,  and  ask  the  Common- 
wealth's Attorney  to  accompany  me  on  this 
mission  of  justice.  Further  than  that,  I  direct 
him  to  summon  the  members  of  the  jury  that 
convicted  Boyd  Westover  of  a  crime  of  which 
he  is  not  guilty,  to  go  with  us  before  the  Gov- 
ernor and  join  us  in  our  request.  So  far  as 
the  securing  of  a  pardon  is  concerned,  no  ef- 
fort of  this  kind  is  necessary;  but  the  court 
deems  it  proper  in  this  case  to  make  this  united 
appeal  of  judge,  jury,  and  prosecutor  by  way 


EVENTS    OF   A    MORNING      in 

of  emphasizing  our  recognition  of  the  injustice 
done.  The  court  stands  adjourned  until  four 
o'clock  this  afternoon,  at  which  hour  Mr. 
Boyd  Westover  "  —  the  Judge  no  longer  spoke 
of  him  as  "  the  prisoner  "  —  "  will  present 
himself  here  and  the  court  will  itself  deliver 
to  him  —  as  it  is  fitting  that  the  court  should 
do  in  such  a  case  —  the  papers  relieving  him, 
so  far  as  it  is  possible  now  to  relieve  him,  of 
all  the  consequences  of  a  clearly  erroneous  ac- 
cusation and  conviction." 

When  the  Judge  ceased  speaking,  Boyd 
Westover  made  a  profound  bow  to  him,  say- 
ing simply :  "  I  thank  you."  Then  turning  to 
Towns  he  said : 

"  Come,  Jack !  I'm  faint  and  hungry.  Let's 
go  to  Tom  Griffin's  and  get  something  to 
eat." 

Tom  Griffin's  was  a  place  well  known  in  the 
Richmond  of  that  old  time.  Tom  himself  was 
a  negro  slave  who  enjoyed  vastly  more  liberty 
than  any  free  man  of  color  ever  did  in  Vir- 
ginia. Every  gentleman  in  Richmond  was  his 
personal  friend;  so  was  every  aristocratic 
planter  east  of  the  Blue  Ridge.  Any  one  of 


ii2      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

them  would  have  drawn  his  check  in  payment 
for  Tom's  liberty,  if  Tom  had  desired  to  be 
free.  But  Tom  Griffin  wanted  nothing  of  the 
kind.  He  was  happy  and  he  knew  when  he 
was  well  off.  If  his  freedom  had  been  bought, 
he  must,  under  the  law,  have  left  his  native 
state,  whose  people  were  his  friends  and  whose 
associations  meant  to  him  all  that  life  could 
mean. 

He  knew  all  there  was  to  know  of  catering 
and  of  cookery.  Better  still,  as  he  phrased  it, 
he  "  instincted  just  how  to  make  things  good 
to  eat."  He  had  genius,  in  short,  and  the  fact 
was  recognized  and  celebrated  by  every  man  in 
Virginia  who  had  a  palate  and  the  price  — 
and  who  enjoyed  Tom  Griffin's  favor.  For 
Tom  Griffin's  place  was  no  ordinary  restaurant. 
Men  of  the  common  herd  were  not  welcomed 
there.  Only  those  whom  he  recognized  as  his 
friends  —  and  his  friendships  were  rigidly  re- 
stricted to  the  aristocratic  class  —  were  priv- 
ileged to  sit  at  Tom's  polished  old  mahogany 
table,  and  enjoy  sora,  or  canvas  backs  or  te*r- 
rapin  in  perfection.  Only  such  were  served 
with  his  glorified  chine  and  spare-ribs,  his  roast 


EVENTS    OF   A    MORNING 

turkey  or  his  forequarters  of  spring  lamb. 
And  those  who  were  so  privileged  could  never 
be  persuaded  to  believe  that  anybody  else  in  all 
the  world  could  even  by  accident  serve  any 
viand  in  such  perfection  as  that  in  which  every 
viand  came  from  Tom  Griffin's  expert  hands. 

Tom  probably  knew  who  his  master  was, 
but  nobody  else  ever  asked.  Tom  probably 
paid  his  master  a  liberal  compensation  for  his 
time ;  he  could  well  afford  to  do  so.  For  Tom 
Griffin  was  rich  —  so  rich  that  many  a  young 
Virginian  whose  frequent  rash  expenditures 
threatened  to  involve  him  in  argument  with  his 
father,  found  relief  in  a  loan  from  Tom  Grif- 
fin's hand,  concerning  which  no  papers  were 
passed.  These  loans  were  certain  to  be  repaid. 
They  were  debts  of  honor,  seeing  that  as  a 
suitor  Tom  Griffin  —  a  negro  slave  —  would 
have  had  no  standing  in  court. 

Tom  Griffin  had  waiters  in  adequate  force, 
but  he  never  permitted  them  to  serve  a  gentle- 
man without  his  personal  superintendence.  If 
a  gentleman  wanted  a  glass  of  water  during 
his  meal  —  as  even  Virginia  gentlemen  some- 
times did  —  Tom  regarded  his  waiter  as  a 


ii4     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

person  competent  to  serve  it.  The  waiter  could 
clear  away  the  used  crockery,  too,  and  see  to  it 
that  lighted  wax  candles  were  in  place  for 
cigar-lighting  purposes.  There  were  other 
minor  offices  that  Tom  permitted  to  his  wait- 
ers. But  when  it  came  to  serving  a  dish,  Tom 
took  the  function  upon  himself. 

"  You  see,"  he  once  explained,  "  the  boys  is 
so  stupid.  If  I've  laid  myself  out  to  have  a 
dish  just  right,  I  ain't  a  goin'  to  spile  all  my 
work  by  lettin'  a  clumsy  nigger  slap-bang  it 
on  the  table,  like  as  if  he  was  a  sellin'  fish  in 
the  market." 

In  accordance  with  his  custom,  therefore, 
Tom  personally  served  a  dinner  that  Boyd 
Westover  had  not  ordered.  There  were  soft 
crabs  to  begin  with.  There  was  a  whole  fore- 
quarter  of  genuine  spring  lamb  for  Boyd  to 
carve  at  will.  There  were  the  earliest  peas 
of  the  season,  secured  by  Tom  Griffin's  "  Sys- 
tem," which  consisted  in  letting  all  the  market 
gardeners  know  that  he  paid  higher  prices  than 
anybody  else  for  the  first  and  best  of  every 
garden's  product,  and,  more  important  still, 
that  any  gardener  failing  to  give  him  first 


EVENTS    OF   A    MORNING      115 

choice  would  be  cut  off  his  list,  a  proscription 
too  serious  to  be  faced  with  composure.  There 
were  the  first  tomatoes  of  the  season,  too,  and 
there  was  everything  else  that  was  possible, 
including  a  meringe  a  la  creme,  black  coffee 
and  cigars  at  the  end. 

Boyd  Westover  had  ordered  nothing  of  the 
sort,  but  Tom  Griffin  served  it  all  quite  as  if 
he  had  done  so,  and  when  it  came  upon  the 
table  Tom  busied  himself  and  a  corkscrew  in 
opening  a  dusty,  cobwebbed  bottle  of  antique 
Madeira,  saying  as  he  did  so : 

"  Dis  is  Ann  Maria  wine,  Mas'  Boyd,  an* 
dere  ain't  much  of  it  left  in  Old  Virginia,  I 
reckon.  Will  you  'scuse  me  ef  I  say  I  ain't 
paid  no  attention  to  your  order  in  gittin'  your 
dinner  ready,  an'  I  ain't  asked  what  sort  o' 
wine  you  wanted  ?  De  explanation  is  dat  Tom 
Griffin  is  a  furnishin'  this  here  dinner  an'  this 
here  Ann  Maria  Madeira,  as  his  contribution 
to  de  joyful  occasion.  Gentlemen,  I  trust  your 
appetites  is  good." 

With  that  Tom  withdrew  too  hastily  for 
protest  or  remonstrance.  As  he  went  he 
snatched  a  napkin  from  a  vacant  table,  with 


n6     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

which  to  dry  his  dusky  cheeks  of  the  tears  that 
were  streaming  down  them  in  spite  of  all  his 
efforts  at  self-control. 

Tom  had  learned  from  his  customers  to 
speak  fairly  correct  English,  and  his  lapse  into 
the  negro  dialect  of  his  boyhood  on  this  occa- 
sion was  the  "  outward  and  visible  sign  of  the 
inward "  emotional  disturbance  that  Boyd 
Westover's  experience  had  wrought  in  his  all- 
affectionate  soul. 


XII 


AFTER    THE    STORM 

HUNGRY  as  Boyd  Westover  had  de- 
clared himself  to  be,  and  tempting  as 
was    the    dinner    that    Tom    Griffin 
served,  the  young  man  ate  with  scant  appetite, 
and  when  the  meal  was  over  his  friend  was 
anxiously  worried. 

"  See  here,  Boyd !  "  he  said.  "  In  view  of 
all  the  circumstances  you  ought  to  be  the  j oi- 
liest fellow  in  Richmond  to-day.  You've 
borne  up  astonishingly  during  the  real  stress 
of  this  affair.  Why  should  you  flunk  now  that 
it's  all  over  and  you're  a  victor?  " 

"  I'm  not  flunking.      I'll   never   flunk,   but 
stoicism  costs,"  answered  Westover. 
"  Just  how  do  you  mean  ?  " 
"  I  mean  that  my  determination  to  bear  a 
bold  and   unflinching  front  as   it  becomes  a 
Westover  to  do  when  the  penitentiary  doors 
117 


n8      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

were  yawning  for  me,  with  lifelong  disgrace 
as  my  portion,  has  taken  more  out  of  me  than 
you  can  easily  believe.  To  a  man  raised  in  our 
traditions,  the  prospect  of  disgrace  and  shame 
is  a  fearful  thing  to  face.  A  score  of  agoniz- 
ing deaths  by  torture  would  have  been  to  me 
as  nothing  in  comparison  with  what  I  have 
suffered  in  contemplation  of  this  horror.  I 
have  faced  the  thing  as  bravely  as  I  could. 
That  much  I  owed  to  my  name,  my  caste,  my 
lineage  —  call  it  what  you  will.  But  my  bank 
account  of  endurance  is  running  low  now. 
My  drafts  upon  it  have  been  heavy  and  — 
well,  there  have  been  no  deposits  to  strengthen 
it." 

He  was  thinking  bitterly  of  Margaret  Con- 
way's  defection. 

"  Don't  let  us  talk  of  that.  I'm  as  nearly 
on  the  verge  of  collapse  as  a  healthy  man  can 
be,  that's  all." 

"  But  you  are  vindicated,  and  when  your 
pardon  comes  this  afternoon  —  " 

"  Pardon  ?  Yes.  For  a  crime  I  did  not  com- 
mit. Think  of  it,  Jack.  From  this  hour  forth 
I  shall  be  a  man  accused,  convicted  and  sen- 


AFTER    THE    STORM  119 

tenced  for  a  crime  of  infamous  character,  and 
graciously  pardoned  for  it.  It  couldn't  be 
worse  —  except  to  my  own  soul  —  if  I  were 
guilty.  The  pardon  undoes  nothing  but  the 
punishment.  It  doesn't  wipe  out  the  stain. 
It  doesn't  —  oh,  well,  you  understand.  I  am 
free,  but  my  life  is  ruined.  If  I  were  called 
as  a  witness  in  court,  the  opposing  attorney 
would  be  free  to  ask  me  if  I  had  not  been  con- 
victed of  a  felony  and  sentenced,  and  I  should 
have  to  answer  yes.  Then  he  could  forbid 
me  to  explain.  The  thing  is  horrible.  The 
law  as  it  stands  is  infamously  unjust.  Why 
should  I  be  a  pardoned  criminal  when  I  have 
committed  no  crime?  Why  should  not  the 
court  that  convicted  me  and  sentenced  me  un- 
der a  mistake  have  power  to  undo  the  wrong 
by  another  trial  or  procedure  of  some  kind? 
Why  should  I  not  be  acquitted  of  a  false  ac- 
cusation instead  of  being  '  pardoned '  for  an 
offence  never  committed?  No,  don't  bother 
to  answer.  I  know  the  answer  already.  Such 
cases  are  too  rare  for  the  law  to  have  provided 
for  them,  though  it  is  the  law's  boast  that  there 
is  no  wrong  for  which  it  doesn't  provide  a 


120      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

remedy.  However,  let's  talk  of  something  else. 
I'm  going  off  for  rest.  I  suppose  this  Rocky 
Mountain  matter  ought  to  be  looked  after. 
Will  you  go  out  there  as  my  representative, 
under  your  blanket  power  of  attorney,  and  do 
whatever  you  think  best  about  it?  There 
seems  to  be  money  enough  in  it  to  pay  you  all 
you  want  in  the  way  of  fees,  according  to 
your  representation." 

"  I'll  go,  of  course.  But  I  wish  you  would 
go  instead,  or  go  with  me.  It  would  divert 
your  mind,  and,  believe  me,  Boyd,  you  need 
such  diversion  more  than  anything  else.  Why 
can't  you  go  ?  " 

"  Because  I  must  rest,  and  because  —  well, 
because  of  many  things.  Never  mind.  I'm 
not  going  and  you  are.  I'm  going  a  fishing. 
Draw  up  all  the  necessary  papers  and  I'll  exe- 
cute them.  Can  you  get  them  ready  to- 
night? I  want  to  go  away  to-morrow  morn- 
ing and  forget." 

"  Where  will  you  go  ?    To  Wanalah  ?  " 

"  No ;  except  for  brief  preparations.  To 
the  mountains.  You  know  I  own  three  or  four 
high  mountain  tops  up  in  the  Blue  Ridge,  with 


AFTER    THE    STORM  121 

the  swales,  called  valleys,  that  lie  between. 
The  land  is  worthless,  but  the  woods  up  there 
are  full  of  game  and  the  brooks  alive  with 
trout.  My  grandfather  bought  the  vast  tract 
as  an  indulgence  and  my  father  kept  it  with 
a  like  purpose.  There's  a  shack  of  some  sort 
up  there  I  believe.  If  not,  I  can  build  one  in 
a  half  day,  and  it  will  interest  me  to  chink  and 
daub  it." 

Jack  Towns  sat  silent  for  a  time.  Then  he 
said: 

"  I  heartily  disapprove  of  your  plan.  It 
means  solitude,  and  you  need  association  with 
men  to  cure  you  of  morbid  and  unwholesome 
feelings." 

"  But  I  can  associate  with  men  only  upon 
sufferance.  You've  heard  of  the  person  who 
said :  '  The  more  I  see  of  men,  the  better  I 
like  dogs/  I'm  not  quite  of  his  mind,  but  any- 
how I'm  going  up  into  the  high  mountains 
with  my  dogs,  my  guns  and  my  fishing  tackle. 
So  get  all  the  papers  ready,  Jack,  and  let  me 
get  away  as  soon  as  possible." 

Again,  Jack  Towns  sat  silent  and  troubled. 
After  awhile  he  said : 


122      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  Of  course  you'll  go  to  my  house  to-night 
and  be  my  guest  so  long  as  you  remain  in 
Richmond?" 

"  Thank  you,  I  will  if  you'll  see  to  it  that 
no  visitors  get  at  me.  I  want  to  go  to  sleep 
as  soon  as  this  thing's  over  and  I'd  like  to  stay 
asleep  forever." 

"  You're  all  wrong,  but  of  course  as  a  guest 
in  my  house  you'll  be  protected  from  every- 
thing that  is  reasonably  or  unreasonably  dis- 
agreeable to  you.  But  really,  Boyd,  the  people 
who  are  sure  to  call  to-night  —  " 

"  Yes,  I  know.  They  will  call  to  offer  con- 
gratulations which  are  in  fact  commiserations 
and  condolences.  I  don't  care  to  attend  my 
own  funeral  in  the  capacity  of  chief  mourner, 
just  yet.  I  shouldn't  mind  the  funeral,  with 
myself  for  the  corpse,  but  I'm  not  prepared  to 
play  the  part  of  chief  mourner." 

"  You're  morbid,  Boyd." 

"  Perhaps  so,  but  I'm  going  to  become 
healthy  again.  Now  listen.  I'm  going  off  into 
the  mountains  to  match  my  wits  with  those 
of  the  wiliest  trout,  the  shyest  deer,  the  most 
experienced  wild  turkey  gobblers,  and  now  and 


AFTER    THE    STORM  123 

then  perhaps  to  try  conclusions  with  a  sly  old 
bear.  By  the  time  I  return  to  civilization,  I'll 
have  decided  upon  my  career.  I'm  going  to  do 
something  —  I  don't  know  what.  But  by  that 
time  I'll  know." 

"  Good !  That's  the  way  to  look  at  things. 
After  all,  the  strain  your  stoicism  has  put  upon 
you  hasn't  robbed  you  of  your  robust  manhood, 
and  that  is  what  I  feared." 

"  My  dear  Jack,  I  couldn't  lose  that  and  go 
on  living.  It  is  only  that  I  must  have  a  little 
time  in  which  to  pull  myself  together  and  see 
what  I  can  do.  If  your  mission  to  the  Rocky 
Mountains  proves  that  those  fellows  out  there 
are  right,  and  that  a  great  wealth  is  ready  to 
my  hand,  I  may  turn  philanthropist,  or  I  may 
enter  upon  great  business  undertakings  which 
by  their  employment  of  multitudes  of  men  at 
good  wages  are  perhaps  the  most  philanthropic 
of  all  endeavors.  I  don't  know.  I  can't  think 
till  I  sleep  and  rest.  At  any  rate  while  I  am 
recovering  tone  up  in  the  high  mountains  of 
the  Blue  Ridge,  you  will  find  out  what  mone- 
tary tools  I  have  to  work  with.  Theology 
teaches  us  that  the  primal  curse  was  a  con- 


i24     WESTOVER  OF  W  ANAL  AH 

demnation  to  work.  It  was  the  primal  bless- 
ing instead.  That's  an  aside.  I  have  good 
friends  up  in  the  mountains,  chief  among 
whom  is  Judy  Peters." 

"  The  Queen  of  the  mountains  ?  I've  heard 
of  her.  She's  an  erratic  political  factor  with 
whom  every  candidate  must  reckon,  I'm 
told." 

"  She's  all  that.  She  controls  the  mountain 
vote  in  her  district  as  absolutely  as  the  Super- 
intendent of  the  Penitentiary  was  to  have  con- 
trolled me  —  " 

"  Now,  my  dear  Boyd,  I  beg  you  to  put 
aside  that  sort  of  brooding.  It's  morbid,  it's 
hurtful  to  your  character,  it's  —  " 

"  Yes,  I  know.  But  I'm  not  pardoned  yet, 
you  know,  and  naturally  —  never  mind.  I 
was  speaking  of  Judy.  She  doesn't  abuse  her 
political  power.  In  many  elections  she  doesn't 
use  it  at  all.  She  says  to  her  subjects  :  '  I  ain't 
choosed  'twixt  them  two  candidates.  Choose 
for  yourselves.'  But  when  she  does  choose 
and  intimates  her  choice  the  men  of  the  moun- 
tain all  vote  her  way,  and  their  vote  makes  an 
end  of  all  uncertainty  as  to  the  result  of  that 


AFTER    THE    STORM  125 

election.  But  it  isn't  only  in  politics  that  she 
rules.  A  Baptist  preacher  went  up  that  way 
once  and  became  pastor  of  a  church.  For  a 
while  he  '  cut  a  wide  swath,'  as  Judy  said. 
But  he  made  the  mistake  of  offending  her 
majesty  by  some  indiscreet  criticism  of  her. 
She  manifested  no  displeasure,  but  on  the 
next  Sunday  and  the  next  he  found  a  meeting 
house  full  of  empty  benches  to  preach  to. 
Then  he  quit,  as  Judy  afterwards  explained, 
'  because  his  usefulness  was  at  its  end.'  It's 
the  same  way  with  everything  else.  Ordinarily 
she  does  not  interfere,  but  when  she  does  her 
interference  is  instantly  effective.  It's  a  com- 
mon saying  up  there  that  '  ef  you  want  to 
stay  in  the  mountings  comfortable  like,  you 
don't  want  to  git  yourself  into  Judy  Peters's 
bad  books.'  " 

"  On  what  does  her  extraordinary  influence 
rest?" 

"  It  would  be  hard  to  say.  Partly  I  should 
say  upon  her  extraordinary  sagacity,  especially 
in  her  judgment  of  men  and  her  penetration 
of  their  motives.  My  father  used  to  say  she 
had  second  sight  of  the  Scottish  sort.  It  is 


126     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

certain  that  no  man  ever  deceives  her  for  long, 
no  false  pretense  ever  endures  her  scrutiny, 
and  she  never  falters  in  her  judgments.  She 
is  as  relentless  as  Fate  itself  and  as  merciless 
in  her  dealings  with  what  she  adjudges  to  be 
wrong.  As  she  doesn't  know  what  fear  means, 
she  is  equally  resolute  in  her  active  support  of 
all  causes  that  enlist  her  sympathy.  She  is 
ignorant,  as  we  reckon  such  things,  but  her 
sagacity  is  well  nigh  supernatural,  and  she 
keeps  herself  informed  on  all  matters  that  in- 
terest her,  with  an  accuracy  that  a  detective 
bureau  might  envy.  She  is  kindly,  but  not 
courteous.  She  hates  shams  with  an  elemental 
intensity.  If  you  are  a  guest  in  her  house  she 
fulfils  every  obligation  of  hospitality,  but  she 
tells  you  no  lies  either  in  word  or  deed.  She 
will  lay  herself  out  to  serve  you  with  sublime 
fried  chicken  and  glorified  waffles,  but  if  she 
catches  you  in  a  falsehood  she'll  tell  you  you 
are  a  liar  even  while  she  presses  the  apple 
butter  or  the  maple  syrup  upon  your  accept- 
ance. In  brief,  Judy  Peters  is  altogether  a 
natural  human  being,  whose  elemental  pas- 
sions have  never  been  curbed  by  convention, 


AFTER    THE    STORM  127 

whose  courage  is  of  the  kind  that  never  shrinks 
from  the  recognition  of  truth  or  from  its  telling 
in  plain  words.  If  she  likes  you  she  will  say 
so.  If  she  dislikes  you  she  will  tell  you  the 
fact  in  equally  plain  words.  If  she  is  in  doubt 
about  you,  she  will  tell  you  she  '  ain't  choosed 
yit '  as  to  you.  That's  Judy.  Still  my  descrip- 
tion utterly  lacks  something,  I  don't  know 
what  —  personality  perhaps.  You  must  know 
Judy  personally  if  you  would  understand  her. 
Her  malignity,  in  cases  that  seem  to  her  to 
call  for  it,  is  well  nigh  beyond  conception  in 
its  devilish  ingenuity  and  persistence;  her  loy- 
alty, on  the  other  hand,  stops  at  nothing  that 
may  serve  its  fortunate  beneficiary.  She  was 
my  father's  friend,  in  her  odd  way,  and  she  is 
mine.  My  father  once  rendered  her  a  service ; 
I  don't  know  what  it  was,  and  she  won't  tell 
me.  He  always  said  it  was  a  trifle  of  no  conse- 
quence ;  she  always  answers  my  inquiries  about 
it  by  saying: 

'Tain't  none  o'  your  business,  Boyd,  what 
he  done  for  me,  but  ef  I  could  'a'  turned  these 
here  mountings  upside  down  an'  he'd  'a'  give 
the  word  as  how  he  wanted  it  done,  over  the 


128     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

mountings  would  'a'  gone,  you  kin  bet  your 
bottom  dollar  on  that  proposition.' 

"  She  is  my  friend  on  my  father's  account 
and  nothing  can  change  that.  If  I  should  try 
to  deceive  her  she'd  denounce  me  to  my  face 
as  a  liar,  but  she'd  make  the  mountains  too  hot 
to  hold  anybody  else  who  should  suggest  such 
a  thing,  and  she'd  go  on  doing  her  mightiest 
in  my  interest,  in  spite  of  my  fault.  In  her 
way  she  is  a  wholesome  sort  of  person  for  me 
to  meet  just  now,  and  I'm  going  to  spend  a 
few  days  with  her,  just  for  the  bracing  up 
she'll  give  me.  After  that  I'll  go  on  up  into 
the  high  mountains." 

So  ended  the  dinner  and  the  conversation. 
Next  morning  Westover  set  out  for  Wanalah, 
where  he  intended  to  spend  a  few  days  giving 
necessary  directions  and  equipping  himself  with 
supplies  for  his  sojourn  in  the  mountains. 
These  consisted  of  books,  mainly,  with  a  bag 
of  corn  meal,  a  ham  or  two,  a  few  sides  of 
bacon,  guns,  ammunition,  fishing  tackle  and 
rough  clothing,  all  of  which  were  loaded  into 
an  ox  cart,  which  a  negro  boy  was  to  drive  in 
leisurely  fashion  to  Judy  Peters's.  Beyond 


AFTER    THE    STORM  129 

that,  in  the  climb  up  the  mountainside,  oxen 
would  be  of  less  use  than  bother,  and  West- 
over  depended  upon  the  long  legs  and  strong 
arms  of  mountaineers  to  manage  the  further 
transportation. 


XIII 

TAKES   THE    HELM 

IT  would  have  been  a  dangerous  thing  for 
any  man  to  accuse  Colonel  Conway  of 
cowardice.  Personal  courage  was  his  in 
full  measure.  Three  times  during  the  Mexi- 
can war  he  had  been  promoted  —  rising  from 
lieutenant  to  colonel  —  and  each  time  in  spe- 
cial recognition  of  "  conspicuous  gallantry  in 
action."  He  was  afraid  of  no  man  and  no 
company  of  men.  He  did  and  dared  through- 
out his  life  with  absolute  disregard  of  dan- 
ger. 

But  Colonel  Conway  was  mightily  afraid  of 
his  sister  Betsy,  as  his  daughter  had  said. 
Why,  he  could  not  have  told,  but  the  fact  re- 
mained that  he  was  afraid  of  that  elderly  little 
woman,  encased  as  she  was  in  an  armor  of 
conventionalities,  gentle  but  resolute,  and  mer- 
130 


"AUNT    BETSY"  131 

cilessly  insistent  upon  what  she  decreed  to  be 
"  proper  "  conduct. 

When  the  negro  boy  who  daily  brought  the 
letter  bag  from  the  post  office  to  The  Oaks 
reported  that  Mr.  Boyd  Westover  had  come  up 
from  Richmond  and  was  to  stay  only  for  a 
day  or  two  at  Wanalah,  Colonel  Conway 
promptly  announced  his  purpose  to  ride  over 
and  congratulate  him.  The  family  were  at 
the  breakfast  table  at  the  time  and  the  Colonel 
observed  that  his  daughter  paled  at  the  men- 
tion of  his  purpose,  though  she  said  nothing 
in  reply  to  his  declaration.  His  sister,  "  Aunt 
Betsy,"  also  said  nothing.  It  was  her  habit  to 
say  nothing  till  the  time  was  ripe. 

Immediately  after  breakfast  Margaret 
sought  speech  with  her  father. 

"  You  are  right,  father,  and  what  you  pur- 
pose is  the  part  of  an  honorable  man.  You 
ought  to  go  to  Boyd  and  take  his  hand,  and 
make  him  feel  that  men  of  your  kind  and  his 
kind  understand.  But  —  "  She  paused  un- 
certainly. 

"  '  But '  what,  daughter?  "  asked  the  Colo- 
nel, eagerly  scanning  her  face. 


i32      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  Nothing.  I  was  only  going  to  say  that 
perhaps  it  will  be  just  as  well  not  to  mention 
me  —  unless  he  does  so  first." 

There  was  that  in  her  hesitating  utterance 
which  awakened  the  Colonel's  attention  and 
curiosity. 

"  But  why  not,  Margaret?  "  he  questioned. 
"  Surely  it  is  about  you  he  will  be  most  eager 
to  hear." 

"  If  so  he  will  ask.  If  he  doesn't,  I  beg  of 
you  —  " 

"  Why,  surely  you've  heard  from  him  fre- 
quently during  this  trouble  —  and  you've  writ- 
ten to  him?" 

"  I've  written  to  him,  yes." 

"  And  he  has  written  to  you,  of  course?  " 

The  girl  stood  silent,  while  she  plucked 
honeysuckles  from  the  vines  that  shrouded  the 
porch  in  which  they  stood,  and  nervously 
pulled  them  to  pieces. 

"  Answer  me,  child,"  the  Colonel  said  in  a 
tone  of  command.  "  Hasn't  Boyd  Westover 
written  to  you  during  all  this  trouble  ?  " 

"  I  have  received  no  letter  from  him,"  she 
answered  hesitatingly. 


"AUNT    BETSY'1  133 

"  Do  you  mean  that  he  hasn't  written  to  you 
of  his  arrest,  trial  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  of  his 
vindication  and  —  " 

"  I  have  had  no  letter  from  him,"  she  re- 
peated. 

"  Hasn't  he  even  offered  you  a  release  from 
your  engagement  ?  " 

"  I  have  had  no  letter  from  him,"  she  said 
again,  but  this  time  she  lost  her  self  control 
and  blurted  out  the  thought  that  had  troubled 
her  for  many  days. 

"  Oh  Father,"  she  said,  seizing  his  arm  as 
if  to  detain  him,  "  there  has  been  some  cruel 
mistake,  some  miscarriage,  something,  I  don't 
know  what.  I  only  know  that  Boyd  Westover 
is  a  gentleman  and  would  never  have  neglected 
such  a  duty." 

"  As  he  has  neglected  it,  he  is  unworthy 
of  a  gentleman's  recognition,  Margaret.  I 
shall  not  go  near  him." 

"  You  are  judging  him  unheard,"  she 
promptly  and  passionately  answered ;  "  and  oh, 
Father,  that  isn't  like  you,  because  it  is  un- 
worthy, and  nothing  unworthy  or  unjust  is 
like  you.  I  beg  of  you,  give  him  a  chance. 


134     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

You  need  do  nothing  but  make  a  call.  The 
explanation  will  follow  —  if  there  is  an  ex- 
planation. If  there  isn't  —  well,  we  shall 
know." 

"  I'll  go,  daughter,  of  course.  It  is  my  duty. 
But  I'll  force  the  explanation.  I  have  a  right 
to  ask  him  why,  being  engaged  to  marry  my 
daughter,  he  has  sent  her  no  release,  in  view  of 
the  circumstances.  That  will  bring  out  all 
there  is  to  say  on  the  subject." 

At  that  point  in  their  conversation  the  father 
and  daughter  were  interrupted  by  the  advent 
of  "  Aunt  Betsy,"  who  passed  from  the  house 
into  the  porch  quite  casually,  and  said  to  Mar- 
garet : 

"  When  you  have  leisure,  dear,  you'd  better 
see  Janet.  She  has  come  to  say  that  Diana  is 
much  worse  this  morning  and  that  the  doctor, 
who  was  in  a  hurry,  left  some  important  writ- 
ten directions  out  at  the  quarters." 

Quick  to  respond  to  duty,  especially  where 
the  sick  of  the  plantation  were  concerned,  Mar- 
garet was  in  the  saddle  a  minute  later  and  gal- 
loping toward  the  "  quarters,"  as  the  negro 
village  was  called  in  plantation  nomenclature. 


"AUNT    BETSY"  135 

No  sooner  had  her  sorrel  palfry's  white  tail 
flashed  its  signal  of  departure  through  the 
outer  grove,  than  "  Aunt  Betsy  "  turned  to  her 
brother,  saying: 

"  Of  course  you  forgot  yourself,  brother, 
when  you  impulsively  declared  your  purpose 
to  visit  Mr.  Boyd  Westover  to-day.  The  one 
serious  fault  in  your  nature  is  impulsiveness. 
You  are  too  chivalric,  too  trusting,  too  confi- 
dent of  others,  too  apt  to  think  of  them  as  men 
like  yourself." 

"  What  is  it  you  want  to  say,  Betsy?  "  asked 
the  Colonel  as  he  sank  limply  into  one  of  the 
porch  chairs. 

"  Only  that  upon  reflection  you  must  see 
that  it  won't  do  for  you  to  call  upon  Mr. 
Westover." 

"But  why  not?" 

"  There  are  a  dozen  reasons.  He's  a  man 
under  a  cloud  you  know.  He  has  been  regu- 
larly convicted  of  a  crime,  and  sentenced  for 
it,  and  —  " 

"  But  he  has  been  fully  vindicated  and  par- 
doned," interrupted  the  Colonel. 

"  Yes,  of  course.     Fully  vindicated  by  the 


136     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

confession  of  a  demented  man  who  may  or 
may  not  know  what  he  is  saying.  It  may  be  — 
well,  anything  may  be,  you  know,  and  opin- 
ions in  this  community  are  likely  to  be  divided 
as  to  the  matter  of  Mr.  Boyd  Westover's  guilt. 
So  long  as  that  remains  unsettled  the  Master 
of  The  Oaks  cannot  afford  to  take  sides  by 
visiting  Wanalah." 

"  You  mean  that  I,  Colonel  Robert  Conway, 
of  The  Oaks,  am  not  free  to  do  as  I  damn 
please  just  because  a  lot  of  pestilent  old  gos- 
sips think  to  say  me  nay  ?  " 

"  You  misunderstand  me,  Robert,  and  you 
grieve  me  to  the  heart  by  the  violence  of  your 
language." 

"  Did  I  swear?  If  so  I  beg  pardon,  but 
sometimes  oaths  will  slip  out.  It's  a  bad  habit 
I  acquired  in  the  army." 

"  You  utterly  fail  to  understand  me,"  said 
"  Aunt  Betsy."  "  I  am  not  concerned  about 
myself  or  you,  or  the  family  name,  though  that 
is  dearer  to  me  than  all  else  in  the  world.  I'm 
concerned  for  Margaret.  You  are  a  man,  of 
course,  but  even  a  man  ought  to  see  that  for 
Margaret's  father  to  visit  Westover  of  Wana- 


"AUNT    BETSY'1  137 

lah,  under  existing  circumstances,  would  be 
everywhere  interpreted  as  throwing  Margaret 
at  his  head,  challenging  him  to  fulfil  his  en- 
gagement with  her.  In  brief  it  would  be  al- 
most the  equivalent  of  that  vulgar  impossibility 
in  Virginia,  a  breach  of  promise  suit." 

"  Aunt  Betsy "  saw  in  Colonel  Conway's 
face  that  she  had  carried  her  point,  and  she 
did  not  imperil  the  result  by  further  speech. 
She  suddenly  applied  her  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes  instead,  and  hastily  retreated  to  her  room, 
confident  that  on  that  day  at  least  her  brother 
would  not  ride  over  to  Wanalah. 


XIV 

WESTOVER   AT    WANALAH 

BUT  if  Colonel  Conway  did  not  visit 
Westover  during  his  brief  stay  at  Wa- 
nalah,  some  others  did.  In  the  main 
they  were  elderly  men  of  his  own  social  class, 
whose  purpose  was  sincere  to  express  their 
pleasure  in  his  escape  from  an  embarrassing 
perplexity.  But  their  very  sincerity  proved  to 
be  the  undoing  of  their  purpose.  They  hardly 
knew  how  to  approach  the  subject  of  his 
trouble  without  offence  and  yet  it  seemed  nec- 
essary to  speak  of  it.  It  isn't  easy  to  tell  a 
man  of  high  place  in  the  world  that  you  are 
pleased  with  his  accidental  escape  from  a  term 
of  penal  servitude  in  the  penitentiary.  As  a 
result  of  this  embarrassment  the  congratula- 
tions of  these  gentlemen,  which  were  meant  to 
be  cordial,  seemed  to  Westover  to  be  coldly 
138 


WESTOVER  AT   W  ANAL  AH    139 

commiserative  instead.  Meant  to  be  com- 
radely, they  seemed  to  him  condescending1 
almost  to  the  point  of  offensiveness.  To  make 
matters  worse,  Westover's  visitors  were  as 
sorely  embarrassed  as  he  was,  and  by  way 
of  escape,  every  one  of  them,  upon  one  pre- 
text or  another,  declined  his  invitation  to 
stay  to  dinner  which,  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances, every  one  of  them  would  have  ac- 
cepted quite  as  a  matter  of  course.  To  him 
this  suggested  avoidance  of  intimacy. 

Perhaps  all  this  was  emphasized  to  his  mind 
by  his  experience  with  the  earliest  of  his  visit- 
ors on  that  day.  This  was  William  Wilber- 
force  Webb,  a  young  lawyer  who  as  repre- 
sentative of  the  county  in  the  House  of  Dele- 
gates —  the  legislature  of  Virginia  —  regarded 
himself  as  "  a  rising  young  statesman,  in  the 
direct  line  of  promotion." 

Mr.  Webb  was  not  a  man  in  Westover's 
class,  and  in  visiting  Wanalah  at  all  he  was 
guilty  of  something  approaching  presumption, 
under  the  rules  of  the  social  regime  of  that 
time  and  country.  Still,  as  the  representative 
of  the  county  in  the  legislature,  he  had  a  right 


i4o     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

perhaps  to  regard  himself  as  privileged  to  that 
extent. 

However  that  might  be,  Westover  welcomed 
him  cordially  as  the  first  of  his  neighbors  to 
call.  He  extended  the  customary  hospitalities 
of  the  house,  which  the  other  accepted.  Then 
the  two  fell  into  conversation  upon  general 
topics,  drifting  into  more  personal  themes  by 
natural  processes.  Lacking  the  tact  that  comes 
of  good  breeding,  the  voluble  and  self  appreci- 
ative lawyer  presently  sought  to  exalt  his  own 
condescension  in  promptly  calling  upon  West- 
over. 

"  You  see  I  have  no  hidebound  prejudices, 
Westover,  and  in  my  position,  as  the  represent- 
ative of  the  people,  the  promptitude  of  my  visit 
may  encourage  others  to  recognize  you,  in 
spite  of  what  has  happened." 

Pale  to  the  lips  with  passion,  Westover  rose 
as  the  man  spoke,  moved  to  the  edge  of  the 
porch  in  which  they  had  been  sitting,  and,  call- 
ing to  a  negro  boy,  said : 

"  Bring  this  gentleman's  horse  to  the  door  at 
once;  do  you  hear?  He  has  imperative  busi- 
ness elsewhere  than  at  Wanalah." 


WESTOVER  AT   WANALAH     141 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  meaning  of  this, 
and  Webb  was  quick  to  comprehend  it.  Ris- 
ing angrily  he  asked : 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir?  " 

'  You  heard  my  instruction  to  the  boy,"  an- 
swered Westover  in  an  even,  unexcited  voice. 
"  You  can  infer  my  meaning  from  that.  By 
the  way,  the  boy  has  obeyed  promptly  and  your 
horse  is  waiting  for  you." 

The  man  was  unaccustomed  to  such  deliber- 
ation and  self  control  in  the  speech  of  an  angry 
person,  but  he  sought  to  imitate  it  as  he  had 
sought  before  to  copy  the  manners  of  those 
whose  social  position  he  envied.  He  sup- 
pressed the  impulse  of  intemperate  speech 
and,  assuming  the  dignity  that  he  thought" 
belonged  to  him  in  right  of  his  "  position," 
said: 

"  You  will  hear  from  me,  promptly,  Mr. 
Westover." 

"  At  your  pleasure,  sir,"  answered  West- 
over.  "  I  shall  remain  at  Wanalah  for  four 
days,  after  to-day.  After  that  I  shall  be  absent 
for  a  time,  but  should  your  message  to  me  be 
delayed  so  long,  which  I  can  hardly  conceive 


i42     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

to  be  possible,  you  can  communicate  with  me 
later  through  my  overseer,  with  whom  I  shall 
leave  an  address  to  be  used  only  in  emergencies. 
Should  you  leave  any  message  with  him  he 
will  have  instructions  to  forward  it  to  me  by 
a  special  courier  who  will  lose  no  time  in  its 
delivery." 

This  was  a  crowning  affront  to  a  man  of 
Webb's  extraction,  and  perhaps  Westover 
meant  it  to  be  such.  The  overseer  class  in 
Virginia  was  the  most  inferior  of  all,  and  the 
very  suggestion  of  one  gentleman  that  he 
would  communicate  with  another  through  his 
overseer  would  have  implied  insult.  If  West- 
over  had  been  speaking  to  one  whom  he  re- 
garded as  an  equal  he  would  have  said: 

"  My  address  for  a  time  will  be  uncertain, 
but  my  overseer  will  have  it  and  I'll  instruct 
him  to  keep  my  lawyer  informed  of  it  from 
time  to  time." 

To  make  matters  worse,  it  was  the  bitterest 
drop  of  gall  in  Webb's  cup  that  he  was  him- 
self descended  from  a  race  of  overseers.  His 
father,  indeed,  had  never  served  in  that  capac- 
ity, for  the  reason  that  the  grandfather  had  left 


WESTOVER  AT   WANALAH     143 

him  enough  money  to  buy  a  little  plantation 
of  his  own  and  struggle  for  recognition  as  a 
member  of  the  planter  class.  But  Webb  had 
learned  by  experience  that  there  was  vitality 
in  the  Virginian  dogma  that  "  it  takes  three 
generations  to  make  a  gentleman." 

The  suggestion,  therefore,  that  he  might, 
if  necessary,  communicate  with  Westover 
through  the  Wanalah  overseer,  was  peculiarly 
offensive  to  Webb.  Whether  Westover  had 
intended  it  to  be  so  or  not,  there  is  no  means 
of  finding  out.  He  was  angry  enough  to  in- 
tend anything. 

But  this  encounter  spoiled  Westover's  ca- 
pacity to  enjoy  the  visits  of  his  later  coming 
friends.  It  set  his  sensitiveness  on  edge,  as 
it  were,  and  prompted  his  mind  to  misinter- 
pretation, so  that  when  he  was  left  to  dine 
alone  at  Wanalah  that  day  the  very  spacious- 
ness of  the  dining  room  seemed  to  mock  his 
solitude,  while  the  polished  furniture  that  had 
witnessed  so  much  of  joyous  festivity  in  that 
great  banquet  hall  seemed  to  have  put  on 
mourning  for  its  master. 

About  sunset,  however,  relief  came  to  West- 


i44     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

over's  spirit  in  the  person  of  Dr.  Carley  Farns- 
worth.  His  real  name  was  Don  Carlos  Farns- 
worth,  and  he  was  a  physician,  but  to  West- 
over  as  to  every  other  friend  he  had  ever  had, 
he  was  known  as  "  Carley."  Carley  was  in 
many  ways  peculiar.  He  was  cynical  at  times 
and  always  disposed  to  take  a  whimsical  view 
of  things.  His  sense  of  humor  was  alert  and 
keen,  though  he  never  in  his  life  made  a  joke 
and  very  rarely  laughed.  His  most  whimsical 
interpretations  of  events  and  situations  were 
delivered  in  solemn,  philosophical  fervor,  and 
with  a  seriousness  that  well  nigh  undid  the 
humor  of  them. 

He  arrived  at  Wanalah  about  sunset,  and 
greeted  his  old  friend  cordially,  and  quite  as 
if  his  visit  had  been  an  ordinary  one  with  no 
"  circumstances  "  of  any  kind  behind  it.  Car- 
ley  Farnsworth  was  a  gentleman,  that  was  all. 
He  had  tact  and  nous,  and  above  all  a  sympa- 
thy so  abounding  that  trespass  upon  another's 
sensibilities  was  impossible  to  him.  Even  in 
examining  patients,  it  was  said  of  him  that  he 
asked  all  his  questions  in  a  way  that  made 
them  seem  a  matter  of  course. 


WESTOVER   AT   WANALAH     145 

After  the  first  greetings  were  over  he  said : 
"  I've  been  rather  impatiently  waiting  for 
your  return  to  Wanalah,  Boyd,  because  I've 
been  wanting  to  floor  you  with  half  a  dozen 
authorities  that  agree  with  me  as  to  the  con- 
struction of  ut  with  the  subjunctive  in  that 
passage  we  came  so  near  fighting  about.  I've 
devoted  all  my  time  lately  to  the  task  of  ac- 
cumulating ammunition  and  after  supper  I'm 
going  to  blow  you  clear  out  of  the  arena.  But 
supper  first,  of  course.  I'm  a  hungry  hygienist 
and  I  know  the  flavor  of  the  Wanalah  hams. 
By  the  way,  you  and  I  are  alone;  why 
shouldn't  we  be  dissolute?  If  you'll  tell  your 
cook  to  serve  us  some  roasted  black-eyed  peas, 
such  as  you  and  I  ate  here  a  year  ago,  — 
roasted  in  the  pod  you  know,  and  served  with 
the  hot  ashes  on  them,  —  I'll  promise  to  be 
happy  for  a  whole  year  to  come.  Of  course 
there'll  be  broiled  tomatoes  as  an  adjunct  to 
the  cold  ham,  and  paper  thin  wafer  biscuit  to 
keep  our  digestions  in  order,  and  after  supper 
we'll  discuss  f  ut  with  the  subjunctive '  as  far 
into  the  night  as  you  please." 

6  Thank  you,"  said  Westover,  smiling  for 


146     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

the  first  time  that  day.  "  I'm  ready  for  the 
contest,  though  really  I  don't  think  either  of 
us  is  Latin  scholar  enough  to  be  entitled  to 
'  views  '  on  the  subject." 

"  There  you  annoyingly  agree  with  the  au- 
thorities," answered  Dr.  Farnsworth.  "  You 
see  I  wrote  to  Professor  Anthon  on  the  sub- 
ject, submitting  my  contentions,  and  he  re- 
plied most  courteously,  suggesting  that  if  I 
would  supplement  my  obviously  rudimentary 
Latin  studies  with  a  more  considerable  read- 
ing of  Latin  texts,  —  he  mentioned  fifteen 
hundred  or  so  that  he  thought  I  might  profit- 
ably run  through  in  my  leisure  moments,  — 
I  would  gain  some  slight  insight  into  the 
grammatical  problem  I  had  undertaken  to 
settle  out  of  my  own  inner  consciousness  and 
Bullion's  Latin  Grammar.  The  thing  put  me 
on  my  mettle,  so  I  wrote  to  our  own  Univer- 
sity professor,  Dr.  Gessner  Harrison.  What 
do  you  think?  He  replied:  '  My  dear  Dr. 
Farnsworth:  You're  a  sublimated  idiot  and 
a  good  many  different  kinds  of  a  donkey.' 
Those  weren't  his  exact  words,  you  under- 
stand, but  the  paraphrase  fairly  interprets  the 


WESTOVER   AT   WANALAH     147 

spirit  of  his  reply.     However,  we'll  leave  all 
that  till  after  supper." 

So  he  chattered  on,  after  his  habit,  and  he 
succeeded  not  only  in  preventing  talk  of  de- 
pressing things,  but  in  amusing  his  host  so  far 
as  to  awaken  something  like  jollity  in  him. 

But  an  occurrence  during  supper  threatened 
to  spoil  all.  A  missive  arrived  from  Webb, 
borne  not  by  a  friend  commissioned  to  "  act 
for  him,"  but  by  a  negro  servant. 

Westover  tore  the  envelope  open  and  read 
the  few  lines  written  upon  the  sheet  within. 
They  ran  as  follows: 

"  Mr.  Webb  intimated  to  Mr.  Westover  to- 
day that  he  would  presently  send  him  a  hostile 
note.  Upon  reflection  Mr.  Webb  has  decided 
that  he  cannot  afford  to  send  anything  of  the 
kind.  It  seems  to  him  and  to  such  friends  as 
he  has  had  time  to  consult  that  recent  events 
affecting  Mr.  Westover's  status  in  society - 
events  which  need  not  be  specified  in  detail  — 
have  rendered  it  unnecessary  and  unbecoming 
for  any  gentleman  to  pay  attention  to  anything 
that  Mr.  Westover  may  say  or  do." 

Having  read  the  insolent  message  with  no 


i48      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

sign  of  anger  that  would  have  been  observed 
by  anybody,  Westover  turned  to  his  dining 
room  servant  and  said,  quite  indifferently: 

"  Send  the  boy  who  brought  that  note  to  me. 
I  wish  to  speak  to  him." 

When  the  negro  messenger  entered,  West- 
over  asked : 

"  Do  you  belong  to  Mr.  Webb?  " 

"  No,  sir.  Laws  a  Massy,  Mas'  Boyd,  he 
don't  own  no  folks  er  nothin'  else.  He  jes' 
hires  me  to  fetch  and  carry  for  him  some- 
times." 

"  I  thought  so.  How  much  did  he  pay  you 
to  bring  this  note  to  me?  " 

"  Eighteen  pence,  sir." 

"  Well,  now  I  want  you  to  carry  it  back  to 
him  and  I'll  give  you  two  and  threepence  for 
the  service.  I'll  make  it  half  a  dollar,  if  you'll 
tell  him  just  what  I  say." 

In  old  Virginia  "  eighteen  pence  "  meant  a 
quarter  of  a  dollar,  and  "  two  and  threepence  " 
meant  thirty-seven  and  a  half  cents,  the  shill- 
ing then  being  sixteen  and  two-thirds  cents, 
as  the  result  of  some  ancient  debasement  of 
coin  in  England. 


WESTOVER   AT   WANALAH     149 

"  Suttenly,  sir.  Ef  what  you  wants  me  to 
say  is  so  superfluous  like  as  to  make  him  mad, 
I  reckon  I  kin  run  faster'n  he  kin." 

!<  Very  well  then.  I  want  you  to  hand  him 
back  his  letter  and  say: 

"  '  Mas'  Boyd  Westover  says  he  hasn't  time 
just  now  to  ride  seven  miles  to  the  Court  House 
to  pull  your  nose  or  slap  your  jaws,  but  he'll 
attend  to  the  matter  at  the  first  convenient  op- 
portunity.' Can  you  say  that?" 

"  No,"  interrupted  Carley  Farnsworth. 
"  Why  should  you  want  him  to  ?  It  wouldn't 
add  a  cubit  to  the  stature  of  your  dignity  and 
it  wouldn't  be  any  worse  affront  to  Webb  than 
you  can  put  upon  him  by  sending  his  note  back 
without  a  word.  He  would  rejoice  in  a  quar- 
rel with  you  —  a  safe  one  at  arm's  length  I 
mean.  It  would  exalt  him  in  the  eyes  of 
others,  and  as  he's  a  member  of  the  legislature 
sure  of  his  reelection,  you  can't  challenge  him 
or  he  you.  You  may  hold  any  view  you  please 
as  to  f  ut '  with  the  subjunctive,  but  on  this 
matter  you  simply  mustn't  obey  the  impulses  of 
temporary  anger.  Send  the  letter  back  with- 
out a  word,  and  to-morrow  you'll  thank  me 


1 50     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

for  bringing  philosophy  and  common  sense  to 
the  restraint  of  an  impulse  that  has  its  root  in 
the  dormant  but  still  potential  savagery  of  your 
nature." 

Westover  laughed  at  the  solemn  ponderous- 
ness  of  his  friend's  utterance,  and  the  laughter 
was  good  for  him. 

"  You're  right,  of  course,"  he  said.  "  Here, 
Sam,  just  take  this  letter  back  to  Mr.  Webb 
and  tell  him  I  sent  no  message  of  any  kind. 
And  here's  your  half  dollar." 

Then,  as  the  negro  left  the  room  the  young 
man  said: 

"  After  all,  my  time  hasn't  come  yet,  and 
meanwhile  I  must  preserve  my  dignity.  You 
see,  Carley,  I  am  still  Westover  of  Wanalah, 
and  I  mean  to  prove  it  to  all  men  by  doing 
things.  I  don't  know  yet  what  things  they 
are  to  be,  but  they  must  be  worthy  of  the  name 
I  bear.  I'm  going  off  to  rest  and  think  for 
a  while,  and  when  I  come  back  to  Wanalah 
Jack  Towns  will  tell  me  what  tools  I  have  to 
work  with.  Meanwhile  brawling  with  an  un- 
derbred fellow  like  Webb  would  be  most  un- 
becoming." 


WESTOVER  AT   WANALAH     151 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  that  you  have  lucid  inter- 
vals, Boyd,"  answered  his  friend.  "  I  reckon 
we  won't  bother  with  Latin  Grammar  to-night. 
Let's  play  backgammon  instead.  But  in  the 
meantime  let  me  give  you  a  professional  opin- 
ion and  some  professional  advice.  You  are 
neurasthenic  and  you've  got  to  get  over  it. 
Your  mountain  trip  will  be  good  for  you,  but 
it  would  be  better  still  if  you  could  get  up  a 
fight  of  some  sort.  I'll  try  to  stir  up  something 
of  the  kind  for  you,  when  you  get  back.  Any- 
how, you've  got  to  quit  thinking  about  your- 
self. Let  me  assure  you  that  there  are  thou- 
sands of  more  interesting  topics  to  think 
about.  There's  lettuce,  for  example,  and 
there  is  music,  to  say  nothing  of  onions  and 
roe  herrings  and  the  Missouri  Compromise, 
and  the  relations  of  agriculture  to  national 
wealth,  and  'possum  hunting,  and  black-eyed 
peas  and  the  Dred  Scott  decision  and  the 
morality  of  flipping  quarters  at  crack  loo. 
Oh,  here's  the  backgammon  board.  Let's  get 
to  work." 


XV 

UP    AT    JUDY/S 

ROBUST  as  he  was,  Boyd  Westover  felt 
himself  somewhat  weary  and  footsore 
when  he  put  one  hand  on  the  top  rail 
of  Judy   Peters' s   gateless   fence   and   sprang 
over  it  to  greet  his  hostess. 

She  was  waiting  for  him  of  course.  She  had 
caught  sight  of  him  far  down  the  mountain, 
at  one  of  the  many  turns  of  the  road  which 
were  conveniently  visible  from  her  door  or  her 
other  points  of  observation.  It  was  not  Judy's 
habit  to  be  surprised  by  any  arrival.  She  had 
had  no  warning  of  Westover's  intended  visit, 
but  she  was  keen  of  vision,  and  had  had  no 
difficulty  in  recognizing  the  wayfarer  four 
miles  away,  if  measured  by  the  tortuosities  of 
the  road,  and  perhaps  a  mile  away  as  the  crow 
flies. 

That  had  been  two  or  three  hours  before  the 
152 


UP    AT   JUDY'S  153 

time  of  his  actual  arrival,  but  Judy  had  not 
wondered  at  the  delay.  She  knew  Boyd's  ways 
and  she  had  made  out  that  he  had  fishing  tackle 
with  him. 

"  Sapphiry,"  she  had  asked  her  daughter, 
"  how  many  chickens  has  you  got  picked  an' 
fixed  in  the  spring  house." 

"  Four,"  answered  Sapphira.  "  Why, 
Mammy?  " 

"  Never  you  mind  why."  Then  relenting 
toward  the  girl's  curiosity  she  said : 

"  Boyd  Westover's  a  comin',  an'  he'll  be 
mighty  hungry  fer  supper.  He's  afoot  an' 
it's  more'n  twenty  mile  from  his  place  here. 
Besides  that  he's  got  four  big  branches  to  fish 
afore  he  gits  here  an'  that'll  take  a  heap  o' 
walkin'  to  say  nothin'  o'  the  len'th  o'  the  road. 
So  you  jes'  go  on  with  your  ironin'  till  I  tell 
you  to  set  about  gittin'  supper." 

"  May  be  he  won't  fish  the  branches,"  sug- 
gested the  girl. 

"  Yes,  an'  may  be  the  moon'll  rise  in  the 
west  to-night  an'  run  wrong  way  'crost  the 
firmament.  It's  the  same  sort  of  a  may  be, 
an*  that  sort  never  happens." 


154     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  What  you  reckon  he's  a  comin'  fer, 
Mammy?"  asked  Sapphira  as  she  held  up  a 
stiffly  starched  garment  to  inspect  her  work. 

"  Dunno,  an'  it  don't  make  no  difference 
neither,  as  the  feller  says.  Boyd  Westover's 
father  always  found  a  welcome  a  waitin'  at  the 
fence  when  he  come  to  Judy  Peters's  house, 
an'  I's  got  the  same  sort  o'  welcome  a  holdin' 
out  both  han's  for  Boyd  when  he  comes." 
Then  by  way  of  a  more  direct  though  conjec- 
tural answer  to  her  daughter's  question  she 
added : 

"  Reckon  he  wants  to  git  away  from  them 
stuckups  down  his  way.  I  hear  they's  a  been 
a  botherin'  of  him  o'  late.  Coffey,  William, 
son  to  Jesse,  was  a  tellin'  me  all  about 
it." 

The  form  "  Coffey,  William,  son  to  Jesse," 
was  one  in  familiar  use  in  the  mountains  as  a 
means  of  identifying  one  among  a  multitude 
of  men  bearing  the  same  name.  There  were 
several  families  whose  membership  was  so  all 
pervasive  of  that  region  that  some  such  method 
of  identification  on  the  polling  lists  and  else- 
where was  a  necessity,  and  the  polling  list 


UP    AT   JUDY'S  155 

nomenclature  had  been  very  generally  adopted 
into  ordinary  use. 

"  What  was  't  all  'bout,  Mammy?  " 

"  I  dunno,  only,  whatever  'twas,  another 
feller  done  it." 

With  that  lucid  explanation  Judy  set  her 
flatiron  on  a  trivet  in  front  of  the  fire  and 
went  to  one  of  her  points  of  vantage  to  scan 
the  road  below.  On  her  return  she  took  Sap- 
phira's  flatiron  from  her  hand,  saying : 

"  I'll  finish  up  the  ironin'.  They  ain't  but 
three  or  four  pieces.  You  run  over  to  the  fur- 
dest  'tater  patch  an'  gravel  a  pan  o'  potaters. 
Git  a  plenty  of  'em,  kase  they's  mighty  good 
with  fish." 

To  "  gravel  "  potatoes  is  to  dig  into  the 
"  hill  "  in  which  the  vines  grow,  from  its  side 
remove  the  larger  potatoes  from  the  rootlets, 
close  up  the  opening  and  leave  the  vines  to 
bring  the  remaining  tubers  to  perfection.  It 
is  a  process  that  yields  new  potatoes  before 
their  time  and  without  destroying  the  growths. 
The  potatoes  secured  in  that  way  are  very 
small,  very  unwholesome,  but  altogether  deli- 
cious. 


156     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  May  be  he  didn't  git  no  fish,"  said  Sap- 
phira  doubtingly. 

"  Well,  you  jes'  look  after  the  potater  may- 
bes.  That's  your  job.  The  fish'll  git  here  all 
right  kase  I  seen  him  a  cleanin'  of  'em  on  the 
rocks  down  'long  Samson's  branch.  He  won't 
fish  no  more  this  evenin'  an'  he'll  be  here  in 
less  'n  an  hour.  So  mosey  along  an'  git  them 
potaters.  Soon's  I  git  through  with  this  petti- 
coat, I'll  sif  some  meal  fer  batter  bread,  git 
out  a  crock  o'  apple  butter,  an'  cut  up  some 
tomatuses.  Boyd  Westover's  hungry  an'  he's 
a  goin'  to  have  a  good  supper  ef  Judy  Peters 
knows  her  business,  an'  she  thinks  she  do.'5 

When  Boyd  nimbly  swung  himself  over  the 
fence,  all  preliminary  preparations  for  the  eve- 
ning meal  were  completely  made,  and  Judy 
stood  ready  to  welcome  him.  In  his  honor 
she  had  changed  the  limp,  hot  weather  gown 
that  had  served  her  during  her  ironing,  for 
a  stiffly  starched  calico  in  the  violently  high 
colors  of  which  her  barbaric  soul  mightily 
rejoiced. 

For  greeting  Judy  said : 

"  You's  come  up  to  shake  off  the  stuck-ups. 


UP   AT   JUDY'S  157 

Boyd,  an'  git  among  natural  folks  I  s'pose. 
Anyhow  you're  welcome.  Them's  beauties," 
looking  into  Boyd's  fish  basket,  "  an'  they's  a 
flat-back  an'  two  catfish  among  'em.  I'd 
ruther  eat  a  catfish  or  a  flat-back  any  time 
than  a  trout.  Trout's  sort  o'  stuck  up  fish, 
even  ef  they  does  live  up  here  in  the  mountings. 
But  I  ain't  forgot  how  to  make  trout  good 
with  the  sauce  your  pappy  learnt  me  how  to 
make  —  sauce  All  on  Days  he  called  it,  —  an' 
I'll  make  you  some  fer  supper." 

Presumably  Judy  meant  sauce  Hollandaise. 
At  any  rate  the  sauce  she  served  with  the  trout 
that  night  was  a  glorified  example  of  the  dress- 
ing that  chefs  call  by  that  name,  improved  by 
the  gastronomic  genius  of  the  late  Westover 
of  Wanalah,  and  made  by  Judy  Peters,  whose 
instinct  was  infallible  in  the  manufacture  of 
things  delectable  to  the  palate. 

Suddenly  Judy  observed  something  in  Boyd 
Westover's  face,  —  a  look  of  utter  weariness 
that  she  was  sagacious  enough  to  interpret 
aright,  though  she  made  no  mention  of  her 
interpretation. 

"  He's   got   things   on   his   mind,"    she   re- 


158     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

fleeted ;  "  an'  they's  more  tiresome  like  than 
all  the  trarnpin'  a  feller  can  do.  His  legs  is 
good  fer  twice  the  walkin'  he's  done  to-day. 
Never  mind.  We'll  fix  that  up  afore  we're 
through." 

Then  turning  to  Westover  she  said : 
"  You  is  awful  tired,  Boyd,  even  ef  you  did 
clear  the  fence  like  a  yearlin'  colt.  Now  you's 
a  goin'  to  rest.  Never  min'  tellin'  me  nothin' 
'bout  what  you're  here  for  nor  none  o'  the  rest 
of  it.  You's  a-goin'  to  have  a  nap.  It'll  be 
a  hour  or  may  be  two  hour  afore  supper's 
ready,  'cause  I's  got  that  sauce  All  on  Days  to 
make,  an'  it's  a  slow  job.  It's  awful  hot  this 
evenin'  "  —  Judy  meant  afternoon,  but  like  the 
more  aristocratic  Virginians  she  called  every- 
thing between  noon  and  nightfall  "  evening  " 
and  everything  after  dusk  "  night,"  as  in  very 
fact  it  was. 

"  It's  awful  hot  this  evenin',  but  they's  a 
good  breeze  a  blowin'  through  the  passage,  an' 
they's  a  broad  sofy  there,  three  foot  wide  an* 
seven  foot  long,  an'  there  you's  a  goin'  to 
spen'  the  time  twix  this  an'  supper.  They's 
pillers  a  plenty,  an'  you  ain't  got  nothin'  to  do 


UP    AT    JUDY'S  159 

only  to  lay  down  an'  git  a  good  rest.     Come 
on  in." 

Five  minutes  later  Boyd  Westover  was  com- 
fortably asleep,  with  the  assurance  that  there 
were  no  shams  or  false  pretenses  in  the  hospi- 
tality he  was  enjoying,  and  it  was  more  than 
two  hours  later  before  Judy  permitted  him  to 
be  waked.  She  was  accustomed  to  dominate 
everything  in  her  own  household,  suppers  in- 
cluded, and  this  particular  supper  she  had 
"  sot  back  "  by  a  full  hour  in  order  that  her 
guest  might  have  his  nap  out.  Even  then  she 
forbade  a  rude  awakening.  She  simply  passed 
two  or  three  times  through  the  broad  passage- 
way between  the  two  log  houses  that  consti- 
tuted her  home,  until  the  swish  of  her  starched 
calico  skirts  awakened  him  "  drop  by  drop 
like,"  as  she  explained  to  Sapphira  and  those 
of  her  long-legged  sons  who  had  "  turned  up  " 
for  supper  in  the  maternal  home.  Those  boys, 
Webster,  Henry  Clay,  Andrew  Jackson  and 
Theonidas  —  heaven  only  knows  where  Judy 
got  that  name  —  were  always  uncertain  quan- 
tities in  the  household.  Each  was  a  law  unto 
himself.  They  came  and  went  at  their  own 


i6o      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

free  will,  giving  no  account  of  themselves. 
Home  was  home  to  them.  They  appeared 
there,  sure  of  a  welcome,  whenever  it  suited 
their  convenience  to  do  so.  Sometimes  all  four 
would  be  there;  sometimes  not  one  of  them 
would  appear  for  months  at  a  time.  In  either 
case  no  questions  were  asked  and  no  accounts 
given.  The  boys  were  strong  of  limb,  alert, 
industrious,  independent.  They  made  their 
own  living  by  doing  any  sort  of  work  that  fell 
in  their  way,  and  they  envied  no  man  his  lot 
or  his  possessions.  They  were  types  of  a  ro- 
bust citizenship  of  which  the  Trusts  and  the 
Trades  Unions  —  conspiracies  both  in  restraint 
alike  of  trade  and  of  liberty  —  have  left  us 
small  trace  in  this  modern  world. 

Their  ages  varied  from  thirteen  to  nineteen 
years;  their  height  from  five  feet  ten  to  six 
feet  three;  their  muscularity  and  their  sturdy 
self  reliance  not  at  all. 


XVI 

JUDY    PETERS'S    DIAGNOSIS 

<s  TV    TOW    come   out    here,    Boyd,"    said 

^^     Judy  when  the  supper  was  over. 

"  They's  a  full  moon  or  purty  nigh 

onto  it,  an'  it's  a  raisin',  an'  the  weather's  good 

an'  hot,  —  good  fer  growrin'  corn,  an'  not  bad 

fer  apples  an'  pertaters.    You  an'  me  is  a  goin' 

to  have  a  good  long  talk.     Take  that  there 

rockin'  chair  an'  make  yourself  comfortable, 

like,  'cause  I  want  to  hear  all  about  it." 

The  rocking  chairs  sat  upon  a  broad  porch 
or  platform,  for  it  had  no  roof  over  it,  and  the 
rising  moon  flooded  the  place  with  light. 

"  Now  tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  Judy  when 
the  two  were  seated. 

It  is  to  be  said  that  Judy  knew  "  all  about 
it  "  already,  at  least  all  about  what  had  hap- 
pened up  to  a  very  few  days  before.  It  was 
161- 


-- 


162      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

her  habit  to  keep  herself  fully  informed  on  all 
subjects  that  interested  her,  and  she  was 
mightily  interested  in  everything  that  con- 
cerned any  Westover. 

Her  loyalty  to  the  Westovers  had  its  own 
reasons  for  being.  These  she  never  explained. 
She  rarely  explained  anything  personal  to  her- 
self. But  that  loyalty  was  barbaric  in  its  in- 
tensity of  devotion,  savage  in  its  vindictiveness 
toward  whatever  and  whomsoever  antagonized 
the  Westovers,  and  recklessly  relentless  in  its 
manifestations. 

As  soon  as  Boyd  Westover  fell  into  difficul- 
ties in  Richmond,  she  sent  one  of  her  henchmen 
there  with  instructions  to  employ  a  lawyer  to 
keep  her  informed.  When  Boyd  returned  to 
Wanalah  she  sent  Edgar  Coffey  to  the  county 
seat  to  report  happenings  and  conditions.  She 
said  to  him: 

"  Edgar,  I  has  choosed  you  fer  this  job,  be- 
kase  o'  several  pints  in  your  character.  You 
is  slick  an'  sly,  an'  you  ain't  got  no  principles 
to  stand  in  your  way,  an'  you  seems  to  be 
stupid,  so's  nobody'll  suspect  you  or  keep  silent 
when  you's  about.  You  kin  lie  so  natural 


"Now  COMB  OUT  HERE,  BoYD."— Page  161. 


JUDY    PETERS'S    DIAGNOSIS    163 

like  that  nobody  but  me'd  ever  suspect  you  was 
a  lyin'  at  all.  What  you's  got  to  do  is  to  go 
down  there  to  the  Court  House  on  some  sort 
o'  made  up  business  like,  an'  hang  'round  an' 
listen,  an'  find  out  how  the  stuck-ups  is 
a  treatin'  Boycl  Westover.  Then  you  come 
back  here  an'  tell  me  'bout  it.  Ef  them  stuck- 
ups  treats  him  fa'r  an'  squa'r  like,  it'll  be  all 
right.  Ef  they  don't,  I'll  make  some  of  'em 
wisht  they  hadn't  never  'a'  been  borned."  This 
last  utterance  was  addressed  only  to  herself. 

Edgar  Coffey  had  returned  on  the  evening 
before  Westover's  arrival  and  his  report  had 
included  some  account  of  Webb's  boasting  that 
he  had  "  declined  to  consider  Boyd  Westover 
as  a  man  entitled  to  the  attention  of  a  gentle- 
man." 

"  Now  wait,  Edgar,"  Judy  said,  when  Cof- 
fey reported  this ;  "  don't  let  your  loose  tongue 
git  away  with  you.  Did  you  hear  him  say 
that  hisself  —  the  durned  little  two-cent  post- 
age?" 

"  Yes,  Judy,  sure  an'  certain ;  an'  everybody 
down  that  way's  a  laughin'  in  their  sleeves 
'bout  it.  They  says,  says  they,  f  Why,  ef  Boyd 


1 64      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

Westover  was  to  git  a  real  mad  on  him,  that 
feller  wouldn't  make  a  mouthful  fer  him.'  ' 

"  No  more  would  he,"  said  Judy,  addressing* 
herself. 

So  Judy  knew  in  advance  the  whole  story 
that  she  asked  Westover  to  tell  her;  but  she 
wanted  to  hear  his  version  of  it  and  find  out 
his  mood  of  mind  concerning  it,  and  so  she 
gave  no  sign  of  knowing  anything.  That  was 
Judy's  way. 

Just  as  the  two  comfortably  seated  them- 
selves Theonidas  —  the  thirteen  year  old  son 
of  the  house  —  emerged  from  within  bearing 
a  tray  on  which  were  a  stone  jug,  a  vase-like 
glass,  containing  honey  in  the  comb,  two  tum- 
blers and  a  little  array  of  spoons. 

"  Now  wait  a  minute,  Boyd,"  said  Judy  as 
she  directed  the  placing  of  the  tray  on  a  table 
that  stood  between  her  and  Westover.  "  You's 
got  a  lot  o'  durned  temperance  nonsense  mixed 
up  with  your  good  sense,  but  this  is  a  'cep- 
tional  occasion;  I  ain't  yit  had  a  chanst  to 
drink  to  the  new  *  Westover  of  Wanalah,'  nor 
yit  to  congratulate  you ;  an'  besides  that,  they 
ain't  no  harm  in  a  glass  o'  peach  an'  honey 


JUDY    PETERS'S    DIAGNOSIS    165 

when  I  raised  the  honey  an'  made  the  peach 
myself,  an'  specially  when  the  peach  is  thirteen 
year  ole  in  the  bar'l.  So  you  an'  me  is  a  goin' 
to  have  a  glass  o'  peach  an'  honey  together, 
sich  as  folks  don't  often  taste  these  days. 
They  was  three  bar'ls  o'  that  there  peach 
brandy,  when  my  husband,  Marcellus,  an'  me 
made  it,  thirteen  year  ago,  an'  that  jug's  got 
the  last  drop  that's  left  of  it.  An'  the  best  of 
it  is  they  ain't  never  anybody  but  the  best  been 
let  to  let  it  trickle  down  their  throats.  When 
it  were  five  year  old  I  sold  one  bar'l  of  it  to 
Tom  Griffin  in  Richmond,  'cause  he  never 
would  let  anybody  but  the  best  have  any  of 
it.  When  it  were  ten  year  old  I  give  one  bar'l 
of  it  to  your  pappy,  'cause  I  jes'  know'd  what 
sort  o'  folks  he'd  let  drink  it.  You  see  the 
peaches  that  year  —  thirteen  year  ago  —  was 
extra  superfine,  an'  I  picked  out  the  very  best 
of  'em  for  them  three  bar'ls  o'  brandy,  an'  they 
ain't  been  no  peach  like  it  ever  made  in  these 
here  mountings.  So  now  you  an'  me's  a  goin' 
to  have  a  glass  o'  peach  an'  honey,  an'  sip  it 
slow  like,  while  we  talk,  so's  that  we  kin  git 
the  taste  in  our  throats  an'  all  the  way  down. 


1 66      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

You  see,  Boyd,  they's  tricks  in  makin'  peach 
jes?  as  they  is  in  politics  an'  religion  an'  school 
teachin'  an'  gittin'  married.  They  wa'n't  no 
trick  when  I  got  married,  mind.  I  don't  mean 
that.  Marcellus  Peters  was  as  good  a  man  as 
these  here  mountings  ever  raised,  an'  now  he's 
been  dead  more'n  a  dozen  years  I  ain't  got  no 
complaint  to  make  'bout  him.  Only  he  hadn't 
much  *  git  there  '  in  him.  It  didn't  make  much 
difference,  'cause  I  could  ten'  to  that  part  o' 
the  business  myself.  But  he  did  know  how  to 
make  peach  an'  apple  brandy.  You  see,  Boyd, 
they's'  tricks  in  makin'  peach,  as  I  was  a  sayin', 
an'  Marcellus  he  know'd  all  of  'em.  I  ain't 
a  sayin'  he  didn't  work  'em  off  on  folks  as 
didn't  know  nor  care.  He'd  git  a  order  fer 
peach  when  he  hadn't  no  peach,  an'  he'd  fill 
the  order.  He'd  take  ten  pound  or  so  o'  dried 
peaches  an'  set  'em  to  stew  fer  an  hour  or 
so.  Then  he'd  put  'em  through  the  bung  hole 
of  a  bar'l  o?  apple  brandy,  an'  let  'em  'sociate 
with  the  brandy  like,  fer  three  or  four  days, 
rollin'  the  bar'l  now  an1  then  to  shake  it  up, 
like.  Then  he'd  draw  that  brandy  off  into  an- 
other bar'l,  an'  it  was  fine  old  peach.  Same 


JUDY    PETERS'S    DIAGNOSIS    167 

with  cherry  brandy,  or  blackberry,  an'  the 
stuck-ups  didn't  know  the  difference.  But  this 
here  peach  is  differenter.  It  was  made  of 
peaches,  good  peaches,  such  as  you'd  smile  to 
eat,  an'  Tom  Griffin  was  glad  to  pay  me  seven 
dollars  a  gallon  for  the  bar'l  of  it  he  got.  I 
reckon  he'd  pay  twice  that  ef  he  could  git  an- 
other bar'l  of  it  now." 

Judy  Peters  was  not  talking  without  a  defi- 
nite purpose.  She  never  did  that.  Even  when 
her  conversation  rambled  as  it  did  on  this 
occasion,  it  rambled  of  set  purpose  and  with 
deliberate  intent.  This  time  her  purpose  was 
to  induce  a  like  rambling  impulse  on  Boyd 
Westover's  part,  so  that  she  might  not  only 
hear  from  his  lips  the  whole  story  of  his  tribu- 
lations, but  gather,  by  the  wayside  of  his  con- 
versation as  it  were,  a  clear  impression  of  his 
present  mood  and  attitude  of  mind,  something 
which  could  not  be  gained  by  direct  questioning. 

In  all  this  the  shrewdly  wise  old  woman 
succeeded,  and  when  Boyd  Westover  bade  her 
good  night  as  the  clock  struck  twelve,  she  knew 
all  she  wanted  to  know  about  him.  After  he 
had  gone  to  bed  she  lighted  her  pipe  anew  and 


i68      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

summed  up  her  conclusions  in  the  case  of  the 
young  man  beneath  her  roof  in  reflections  to 
the  following  effect : 

"  He's  a  feelin'  it  more'n's  good  fer  him. 

"  He's  wrong  in  his  mind  or  his  liver  or  his 
lights,  an'  the  fust  needfulness  is  to  set  'em 
right. 

"  He's  a  doin'  the  right  thing  in  a  goin' 
off  up  into  the  high  mountings.  It'll  straighten 
out  the  liver  an'  lights  an'  I'll  make  Theonidas 
go  with  him,  jes'  to  take  the  rough  off,  an'  to 
keep  him  in  company  like.  That'll  be  healthier 
fer  him. 

"  They's  somethin'  about  a  gal  in  the  case, 
but  jes'  naturally  I  couldn't  git  at  that.  Men 
is  sech  fools  'bout  women  anyhow!  A  young 
feller  will  pick  one  purty  gal  out'n  a  dozen, 
all  on  'em  jes'  as  purty  an'  jes'  as  smart  as  she 
is,  an'  ef  she  gives  him  the  mitten  he'll  go 
mournin'  about,  jes'  as  ef  she  was  the  onliest 
tadpole  in  the  puddle,  while  all  the  rest  o'  the 
dozen  purty  gals  is  a  standin'  ready  to  make 
as  big  a  fool  out'n  him  as  ever  she  could  'a' 
done.  It's  cur'ous  but  'tain't  to  be  helped  no 
way,  I  reckon. 


JUDY    PETERS'S    DIAGNOSIS    169 

"  Howsomever  the  thing  to  do  is  to  git  him 
interested  in  something  an'  I  kin  manage  that. 
He'll  git  healthy  like,  up  thar'  in  the  high 
mountings,  an'  by  the  time  he  comes  back  I'll 
git  somethin'  ready  fer  him  to  do." 

Boyd  was  already  better  in  spirits  when  he 
greeted  the  sun  the  next  morning  from  the 
top  of  a  hill  near  Judy's  place.  The  air  of 
the  mountains  had  been  good  for  him.  Better 
still  had  been  Judy's  cordiality  and  her  natural- 
ness. After  all  his  depression  had  been  rooted 
in  the  artificialities  of  human  association,  and 
in  Judy  Peters's  company  there  was  no  such 
artificiality.  She  had  not  hesitated  to  inter- 
rupt his  narrative  of  events  at  various  points 
to  tell  him  that  in  this  or  that  particular  he  had 
been  a  "  darned  fool,"  or  a  "  frosted  potater 
vine,"  or  a  "  dod  dasted  idjit,"  or  something 
else  of  the  sort  that  she  thought  helpful  to  her 
endeavor  to  bring  him  back  to  a  healthy  mental 
condition. 

Her  main  reliance  for  his  restoration  to 
normality,  however,  was  in  getting  something 
strenuous  for  him  to  do.  "  Hard  work's  the 
calomel  he  needs,  an'  a  good  hard  fight's  his 


1 70     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

quinine.    It'll  cure  his  chills,  an'  I'll  git  it  ready 
fer  him." 

With  that  determination  fixed  in  her  mind, 
Judy  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  her  pipe,  covered 
up  the  kitchen  fire,  set  some  roe  herrings  to 
soak,  and  went  to  bed.  Sleep  was  to  her 
healthy  soul  a  matter  of  course. 


XVII 

JUDY    INFORMS    HERSELF    AND    MAKES    PLANS 

IT  was  well  past  midsummer  when  West- 
over   after   a    stay   of    three    days    went 
from   Judy    Peters's    place   up    into    the 
higher  and  more  desolate  parts  of  the  moun- 
tain region.     He  was  accompanied  by  Theo- 
nidas,  whose  instructions  from  his  mother  were 
minute  and  explicit. 

"  B'ar  in  mind,  Theonidas,"  she  said  to  him 
in  an  intimate  conversation,  "  as  how  your 
duty's  to  keep  him  busy  with  things  outsiden' 
hisself.  He's  got  too  many  books  'long  with 
him,  but  they's  good  ef  he  don't  git  to  readin' 
of  'em  by  daylight.  You's  got  to  look  out  fer 
that.  Ef  you  find  him  a  readin'  an'  a  broodin' 
by  daylight,  you  jes'  find  out  somethin'  'bout 
a  b'ar  or  a  catamount  hangin'  round,  an'  git 
him  to  lookin'  fer  that.  An'  ef  he  gits  to 
readin'  too  late  o'  nights,  showin'  as  how  his 
171 


172 


WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 


min's  oneasy  like,  you  kin  git  up  a  night  hunt 
or  somethin'  like  that,  or  ef  that  don't  work 
you  kin  go  out  an'  yell  like  a  painter  till  he  gits 
his  gun." 

A  "  painter,"  in  mountain  parlance,  meant 
a  panther,  or  more  properly  the  mountain  lion, 
a  catlike,  predatory  beast  between  whom  and 
the  mountaineers  there  was  eternal  war. 

"  Anyhow,  Theonidas,"  concluded  Judy, 
"  you  ain't  no  fool,  an'  now  as  you  knows  my 
intentions,  you's  to  carry  'em  out.  Keep  him 
a  goin'.  Keep  him  busy.  Keep  him  so  durned 
tired  that  he  can't  help  sleepin'  o'  nights. 
That's  your  cawntract.  Ef  he  gits  contrary  an' 
won't  git  sleepy  an'  you  can't  think  o'  nothin' 
else  to  do,  jes'  you  set  down  an'  tell  him  a  lot 
o'  your  yarns.  He's  too  perlite  not  to  let  you 
talk  on,  an'  I  ain't  never  knowed  nothin'  as 
would  put  a  feller  to  sleep  quicker'n  one  o'  your 
yarns,  Theonidas." 

In  the  event  there  proved  to  be  no  need  of 
the  soporific  influence  of  Theonidas's  yarns. 
Westover  had  gone  into  the  mountains  to  dis- 
tract his  mind  with  sport,  and  he  pursued  that 
purpose  ceaselessly  by  day  and  by  night.  He 


JUDY   INFORMS    HERSELF      173 

would  hunt  deer,  bears,  turkeys,  squirrels, 
pheasants  and  every  other  species  of  game  as 
it  came  into  the  advancing  season,  throughout 
the  day,  and  at  night  after  a  campfire  dinner 
which  he  cooked  for  himself,  he  and  Theonidas 
would  go  eagerly  in  quest  of  night  prowlers  — 
'coons,  'possums,  and  painters.  Now«and  then 
he  would  send  Theonidas  down  the  mountain 
with  a  present  of  game  for  Judy,  while  he 
himself  exercised  his  wits  ki  controversy  with 
a  certain  wily  old  trout  that  was  accustomed 
to  jeer  at  him  from  one  or  another  pool  of 
the  stream  that  flowed  by  the  cabin  'door. 
Sometimes  he  sent  a  haunch  of  venison,  a  half 
dozen -pheasants  or  a  brace  of  young  wild  tur- 
key gobblers,  with  a  request  that  Judy  should 
arrange  for  their  delivery  to  Carley  Farns- 
worth,  a  commission  he  knew  she  would  exe- 
cute to  the  letter. 

In  brief,  young  Westover  was  growing 
healthy  of  mind  and  body  again,  while  the 
books  he  had  brought  with  him  to  serve  as 
a  means  of  killing  time  lay  unopened  in  the 
log  cabin  where  he  slept  for  long  hours  at  such 
times  as  physical  weariness  forbade  him  further 


i74     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

to  follow  the  sports  of  the  glorious  out  of 
doors. 

In  the  meanwhile  Judy  Peters  was  maturing 
her  plans.  She  kept  Edgar  Coffey  most  of  the 
time  in  the  plantation  part  of  the  county,  with 
instructions  to  find  out  how  the  people  down 
there  felt  toward  Westover,  and  who  among 
them  might  be  trusted  to  aid  her  in  a  project 
she  had  formed,  when  the  time  should  be  ripe 
for  its  execution.  As  a  result  of  Edgar's 
mousing  inquiries  and  her  own  shrewd  skill  in 
discriminating  between  truth  and  falsehood  in 
his  periodical  reports,  Judy  Peters  knew  more 
about  sentiment  in  the  piedmont  region  than 
anybody  there  did,  not  excepting  William  Wil- 
berforce  Webb,  whose  personal  concern  it  was 
to  inform  himself  accurately  as  to  that.  She 
knew,  as  Webb  did  not,  that  the  great  majority 
of  the  men  of  Westover's  own  class  —  the  men 
of  assured  social  position  —  were  strongly  dis- 
posed to  regard  his  misfortune  with  generous 
sympathy,  while  those  of  less  well  assured 
standing  were  disposed  to  shrug  shoulders  and 
give  hints  of  doubt. 

She    learned    one    thing,    however,    that 


JUDY   INFORMS    HERSELF      175 

troubled  her  a  good  deal.  Among  those  of 
Westover's  own  class  there  was  a  vague,  un- 
defined but  none  the  less  hurtful  suspicion  that 
he  had  somehow  failed  of  manly  chivalry  in  his 
treatment  of  Margaret  Conway.  The  suspicion 
had  its  origin  in  the  fact  that  Colonel  Conway 
would  in  no  way  discuss  Westover's  case  or 
express  any  opinion  concerning  him  or  his  con- 
duct. On  the  other  hand  it  lacked  definiteness 
for  the  same  reason.  If  there  were  no  truth 
in  it,  people  argued,  Colonel  Conway  would 
certainly  plant  a  heavy  heel  upon  the  rumor 
as  an  act  of  simple  justice  to  a  falsely  accused 
young  man;  if  there  were  truth  in  it,  it  was 
difficult  to  understand  why  Colonel  Conway  did 
not  call  the  young  man  to  account  in  some 
way. 

Of  all  these  conditions  Judy  was  fully  in- 
formed and  when  the  autumn  came,  with  the 
general  election  in  prospect,  she  directed  Edgar 
Coffey  to  find  out  definitely  concerning  the 
prospective  "  enominations,"  as  she  and  all  the 
rest  of  the  mountain  folk  called  them. 

"  Is  that  there  f adey  calico  feller,  Webb,  a 
goin'  to  be  enominated  fer  State  senator  from 


176     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

our  distric',"  she  asked  of  her  emissary  when 
he  returned  from  his  mission. 

"  No,  he's  a  strikin'  higher  like.  He's  a 
goin'  to  be  emoninated  fer  State  senator  from 
this  distric';  in  fac'  he's  enominated  a'ready, 
an'  he's  mighty  proud  like  over  it." 

"  Yes,  well,  what's  he  a  sayin'  'bout  it?  " 
"  He  says  as  he's  got  the  reg'lar  Whig  enom- 
ination,  an'  as  this  is  a  strong  Whig  distric', 
he's  got  the  'lection  sure." 

Judy  sat  silent  for  awhile.  Then  she  asked  : 
"  Is  he  a  standin'  on  one  leg  while  he's  a 
waitin'  fer  it,  Edgar?  'Case  ef  he  is  he's  a 
goin'  to  git  mighty  tired  'fore  he  gits  the  other 
foot  down.  You  tramp  over  to  Marcellus 
McGrath's  this  evenin'  an'  tell  him  I  want  to 
see  him  to-morrer  mornin',  sure.  Tell  him  I've 
got  a  job  fer  him,  an'  don't  fergit  to  say  he's 
to  do  it  with  his  head.  Ef  he  thought  'twas 
work,  he  would  forgit  to  come.  Git  along 
now.  Time's  money  you  know,  though  you 
can't  never  git  nobody  to  give  you  silver 
change  fer  it." 

Marcellus  McGrath  was  the  mountain 
schoolmaster,  who  read  everything  from 


JUDY   INFORMS    HERSELF      177 

quack  medicine  almanacs  to  patent  office  re- 
ports, remembered  everything  he  read  to  the 
last  detail,  and  never  in  his  life  made  the  small- 
est use  of  the  information  with  which  the  lum- 
ber room  he  called  his  mind  was  packed  full. 
Facts  were  everything  to  him ;  the  significance 
of  facts  had  never  occurred  to  him  as  a  thing 
worthy  of  consideration. 

He  came  promptly  in  response  to  Judy's 
summons,  and  he  brought  with  him  his  big, 
shaggy  headful  of  unrelated  facts  and  figures, 
more  securely  lodged  in  his  memory  than  in 
any  book  of  reference  or  any  table  of  statistics. 

Judy  "  tapped  him,"  as  she  described  the 
process,  as  soon  as  he  had  lighted  his  pipe  after 
a  barbaric  feast  of  fried  chicken,  jowl  and 
greens,  pot  cheese,  green  corn,  batter  bread, 
cold  ham,  tomatoes,  souse,  roast  venison  from 
Westover's  camp,  cucumbers,  onions,  apple 
butter,  rice  pudding,  apple  dumplings,  and  ice 
cream. 

By  way  of  explanation  to  Sapphira,  while 
the  meal  was  in  process  of  preparation,  she  had 
said: 

"  Mark  McGrath  don't  git  none  too  much  to 


1 78     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

eat  at  home,  I  reckon,  an'  I'm  a  goin'  to  pump 
enough  facts  an'  figgers  out'n  him  to  leave 
room  for  the  other  things." 

But  she  did  not  begin  the  pumping  process 
until  McGrath's  pipe  was  comfortably  lighted, 
and  then  she  did  so  gently  at  first.  She  had 
placed  a  slate  and  pencil  on  a  table  by  his  side, 
so  that  he  might  "  figger  out  "  anything  she 
wanted  elucidated. 

"  How  many  voters  is  they  in  this  here  sen- 
ate distric'?"  she  asked  him  to  begin  with; 
and  he  gave  the  figures  promptly. 

"  Set  that  down  on  the  slate,"  she  directed, 
and  the  order  was  obeyed. 

'  'Bout  how  many  o'  them  is  planters'  votes 
—  countin'  in  the  overseers  an'  the  rest  o'  them 
as  always  votes  the  way  the  planters  tells  'em 
to?" 

McGrath  thought  for  a  brief  while  and  then 
gave  his  estimate. 

"  How  many  of  'em  is  Democratic  votes  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  district  is  almost  solidly  Whig. 
The  Democratic  vote  is  really  a  negligible 
quantity,"  the  schoolmaster,  beginning  to  feel 
his  importance,  replied. 


JUDY   INFORMS    HERSELF      179 

"  I  ain't  a  fishin'  fer  big  words,  Mark.  I's 
a  huntin'  fer  facts.  Don't  you  make  no  mis- 
take about  that.  Now,  tell  me,  how  many 
Democratic  votes  was  they  in  the  last  elec- 
tion?" 

So  she  went  on  with  her  catechism,  making 
her  interlocutor  set  down  on  the  slate  such  fig- 
ures as  she  wished  to  use  in  her  calculations. 
With  these  as  factors  she  made  the  school- 
master do  a  deal  of  abstruse  reckoning,  the  pur- 
port and  purpose  of  which  he  could  not  at  all 
conjecture,  but  the  results  of  which  seemed  to 
satisfy  her,  as  she  said  at  the  end  of  it  all : 

"  It  kin  be  did,  an'  by  the  Hokey  Pokey 
Fenokey  it's  a  goin'  to  be  did.  That  little 
worm-eaten,  blossom-blasted  chestnut  of  a 
Webb'll  wish  he  hadn't  never  let  go  of  his  hold 
on  the  tree  when  Judy  Peters  gits  through  with 
him.  Say,  Mark,  what  does  William  Wilber- 
f  orce  mean  ?  " 

"  It's  a  name,"  McGrath  began. 

"  Yes,  I  know  that.  But  what  does  it  mean  ? 
Whose  name  was  it  fust  off?  An'  what  was 
it  he  done?  An'  how'd  that  miserable  little 
bob-tailed  rooster  Webb  git  a  hold  onto  it?  " 


i8o      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

Judy's  antagonisms  were  implacable,  and 
they  were  apt  to  find  expression  in  her  epithets 
and  her  metaphors.  She  knew  next  to  nothing 
of  Webb,  and  she  had  permitted  her  mountain- 
eers to  vote  for  him  at  the  last  preceding  elec- 
tion. But  now  that  she  recognized  in  him  an 
enemy  of  Boyd  Westover,  she  hated  him  with 
an  intensity  and  an  unreason  possible  only  to 
a  nature  such  as  hers,  in  which  the  primal  pas- 
sions of  humanity  had  yielded  themselves  to 
no  chastening  of  circumstance  or  civilization. 

McGrath,  to  whom  no  hint  of  Judy's  pur- 
poses had  been  given,  answered  her  questions 
as  if  reading  from  a  cyclopaedia: 

"  William  Wilberforce  was  an  Englishman, 
celebrated  as  a  philanthropist  and  especially 
distinguished  by  his  work  for  the  abolition  of 
negro  slavery.  He  was  known  in  England  as 
'  the  great  abolitionist.'  " 

"  That's  all  right/'  said  Judy  with  a  grunt 
of  satisfaction.  "  I  ain't  got  no  way  o'  fmdin' 
out  how  that  bow-legged  hoppergrass,  Webb, 
got  a  holt'n  the  name,  but  he'll  wish't  he  hadn't 
'fore  I  git  through  with  him.  Now,  Mark,  I 
want  you  to  write  down  jes'  what  you's  tole 


JUDY    INFORMS    HERSELF      181 

me  —  no  more  an'  no  less  —  'bout  that  there 
abolitionist  Wilberforce.  Jest  write  it  down 
on  paper  an'  leave  it." 

"  What  are  you  up  to,  Judy,  anyhow  ?  " 
McGrath  ventured  to  ask. 

"  That's  what  the  queen  bee  axed  the  b'ar 
when  he  clum'  the  bee  tree,  an'  the  b'ar  says : 
'  I'm  up  to  the  hole  that's  got  the  honey  in 
it.'  " 

And  Judy  vouchsafed  no  further  explanation 
of  her  purposes. 

Next  day  she  sent  for  Edgar  Coffey  and 
questioned  him. 

"  Who's  this  here  Don  Carlos  Farnsworth 
that  Westover's  always  a  sendin'  game  to? 
Do  you  know  him?  " 

11  Yes.     He's  a  white  man." 

In  the  parlance  of  Virginia  at  that  time  there 
was  no  phrase  that  meant  so  much  as  that.  To 
say  of  one  that  he  was  "  a  white  man  "  was 
to  say  that  he  was  honest,  upright,  true  and 
loyal  to  the  tips  of  his  fingers.  Judy  perfectly 
understood  and  so  far  was  satisfied. 

"Kin  he  talk?"  she  asked. 

"  Well  I   reckon.      I   ain't  never  seed  him 


182      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

when  he  was  a  doin'  anything  else.  Words 
streams  out'n  him  like  water  out'n  a  spoutin' 
spring,  an'  they's  the  sort  o'  words  that  wallops 
you  all  up  an'  don't  leave  you  no  chanst  to 
argify." 

"  You  go  down  thar  to-morrow,  Edgar,  an' 
tell  him  please  to  come  up  here  jes'  as  quick 
as  he  kin,  an'  have  dinner  an'  a  night's  lodgin' 
like.  Tell  him  I  want  to  see  him  'bout  Boyd 
Westover,  an'  ef  he  backs  an'  pulls  on  the  halter 
like,  you  tell  him  I  say  Boyd's  in  a  bad  way 
in  certain  respec's.  Remember  to  say  '  in  cer- 
tain respec's.'  Ef  you  don't  you'll  mislead 
him." 

"  Why  not  write  him  a  letter,  Judy,  an'  let 
me  carry  it  ?  Then  you'd  be  sure." 

"  I  ain't  a  writin'  no  letters.  You  see's  long 
as  you  jes'  send  word  like,  they  ain't  nothin' 
for  anybody  to  git  a  hold  on.  Nobody  kin  be 
sure  you  said  jest  them  words,  and  nobody 
kin  prove  you  didn't  say  'em  jes'  a  little  differ- 
enter.  But  ef  you  put  yourself  down  in  writin' 
they's  got  you.  No,  I  ain't  a  writin'  nothin', 
partic'lar  when  I's  got  a  hen  on  the  nest  fer 
some  feller.  So  you  jes'  go  down  there  to- 


JUDY   INFORMS    HERSELF      183 

morrow  an'  tell  Don  Carlos  Farnsworth  I'm 
a  invitin'  him  up  here  on  Boyd  Westover's 
account.  Ef  he  says  he'll  come,  you  hain't  got 
no  need  to  say  no  more.  But  ef  he  backs  in 
the  traces  like,  you  jes'  tell  him  what  I  tole 
you  about  Boyd  a  bein'  in  a  bad  way  in  certain 
respec's.  Remember  them  words  an'  say  'em 
right  —  '  in  certain  respec's!  " 


XVIII 

JUDY    PLANS   A    CAMPAIGN 

JUDY'S  summons  brought  Carley  Farns- 
worth  up  into  the  mountains  within  the 
fewest  possible  hours  after  she  gave  it  to 
her  emissary  to  deliver.     For  Carley  Farns- 
worth  was  Westover's  friend,  and  in  Virginia 
at  that  time  friendship  meant  a  readiness  to 
serve  at  any  cost  or  hazard. 

It  was  nearing  supper  time  when  Farns- 
worth  appeared  at  Judy's  hospitable  door  and 
introduced  himself. 

"This  is  Mrs.  Peters,  I  suppose?"  he  said 
as  she  confronted  him. 

"  Judy  Peters  is  my  name,"  she  answered 
in  that  spirit  of  mountain  democracy  which 
scorns  titles  and  distinctions  and  shams  of 
every  other  sort. 

Farnsworth  was  quick  to  catch  the  under- 
lying significance  of  her  correction  and  both 
184 


JUDY    PLANS    A    CAMPAIGN    185 

diplomacy  and  humor  prompted  him  to  play 
the  game  as  she  wanted  it  played. 

"  That's  what  I  hoped  for,"  he  responded 
quickly;  "  for  Judy  Peters  is  the  very  person 
I  most  want  to  see  in  all  the  world  just  now. 
I  am  Carley  Farnsworth,  Judy.  Of  course 
Boyd  has  written  the  name  '  Don  Carlos  '  every 
time  he  has  sent  me  game  through  you,  and 
so  you  don't  know  me  as  '  Carley,'  but  that's 
what  I  am  to  all  my  friends,  and  I  count  you 
as  one  of  the  best  of  them  because  you're  a 
friend  of  Boyd  Westover,  just  as  I  am." 

"  Now  that's  spoke  up  like  a  real,  natural 
young  feller,  an'  not  like  a  drasted  stuck-up," 
responded  Judy,  shaking  hands  and  bestowing 
him  in  a  porch  chair  where  a  minute  later  she 
pressed  a  toddy  of  apple  brandy  upon  his  ac- 
ceptance, as  a  sure  cure  for  the  weariness  he 
must  feel  after  his  trapes  up  the  mountain. 

As  he  sipped  the  seductive  beverage  he  and 
she  talked.  But  neither  alluded  even  in  the 
most  distant  way  to  the  occasion  for  his  visit 
or  to  Judy's  summons,  or  to  anything  else  re- 
lating to  Boyd  Westover.  They  were  both 
fencing  for  position.  Each  wanted  to  "  size 


i86      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

up  "  the  other,  before  approaching  matters  of 
confidence  and  consequence.  But  by  the  time 
Judy's  generous  supper  was  at  an  end  these 
two  understood  each  other  and  each  trusted 
the  other.  Judy  had  told  him  how  many 
"  hawgs  "  she  sent  down  the  mountain  every 
year  to  be  sold  to  planters,  to  be  corn  fed  for 
three  weeks,  and  converted  into  hams,  bacon, 
souse,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  good  things  in 
which  Virginian  appetites  revelled.  She  had 
told  him  how  many  "  bar'ls  "  of  apple  brandy 
she  made  "  in  a  average  year,"  how  much 
cider,  how  much  vinegar,  and  where  her  mar- 
ket was  for  all  these  things.  Incidentally  she 
had  given  him  her  picturesque  opinions  upon 
many  questions  of  human  character,  life  and 
conduct,  and  he  in  his  turn  had  told  her  every- 
thing he  could  think  of,  concerning  himself. 

"  Now  you  an'  me's  acquainted,"  Judy  said 
when  she  thought  the  time  ripe  for  the  reve- 
lation of  her  plans.  "  You's  the  sort  o'  feller 
to  git  acquainted  with,  easy  an'  natural  like, 
'case  you  ain't  got  nothin'  to  keep  up  your 
sleeve,  an'  you  ain't  got  up  in  a  lot  o'  shams 
an'  frills.  You  is  straight  goods,  Carley,  all 


JUDY    PLANS    A    CAMPAIGN    187 

wool,  a  yard  wide  an'  dyed  in  the  hanks.  May 
be  it's  'cause  you's  a  real  'ristocrat  what  don't 
need  to  keep  on  tellin'  'bout  it." 

"  Thank  you  for  the  compliment,  Judy," 
said  Farnsworth,  interrupting. 

"  They  ain't  no  compliment  to  thank  any- 
body for,"  she  replied.  "  They  ain't  never  no 
compliments  a  flyin'  about  when  Judy  Peters 
is  mixed  up  in  the  talk;  or  ef  they  is  they's 
purty  apt  to  git  holes  punched  in  'em.  Ef  I 
thought  you  was  a  palaverin'  liar,  Carley,  I'd 
tell  you  so  straight  out.  Ef  I  thought  you  was 
a  feller  what  would  say  one  thing  an'  do  an- 
other, you'd  hear  that  opinion  from  Judy 
Peters's  lips,  an'  what's  more  you  wouldn't 
hear  none  o'  the  things  I  axed  you  to  come  up 
here  to  hear  about.  Now  le's  git  down  to  busi- 
ness, as  the  feller  said  when  the  sheriff  was 
slow  about  a  hangin'  of  him.  You  see,  Carley, 
Boyd  Westover's  had  a  shakin'  up,  an'  he  ain't 
right  in  his  sperits.  He's  got  a  notion  into  his 
head  that  folks  is  down  on  him  an'  all  that. 
S'long  as  he's  up  there  a  huntin'  an'  fishin'  an' 
listenin'  to  Theonidas's  yarns  an'  sleepin'  tight 
he's  all  right.  But  that  notion  'bout  folks  a 


i88     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

bein'  down  on  him  is  still  a  stickin'  in  his  mind, 
like  mutton  gravy  sticks  in  the  roof  of  your 
mouth,  an'  you  an'  me's  got  to  cure  him  of  it. 
I's  already  laid  out  plans,  an'  ef  you're  game 
to  help  me,  we'll  rub  that  thing  off'n  his  slate." 

"  I'm  game  to  help  you,  Judy,  in  any  way 
you  like.  You  may  bet  all  the  apple  brandy 
you've  got  on  that." 

"  Is  that  a  hint,  like  ?  Does  you  want  an- 
other nip?  'Cause  ef  you  do,  it'll  be  here 
quicker'n  lightnin'." 

"  No,  Judy.  I  don't  want  another  dram, 
and  I  never  indulge  in  hints,  especially  with  a 
straightforward  person  like  you.  If  I  wanted 
a  drink  I'd  tell  you  so,  but  in  fact  I  hardly  ever 
taste  liquor  of  any  sort,  and  that  toddy  you 
gave  me  was  the  first  I've  sipped  in  a  year  or 
more." 

"  Yes,  it's  curious,  but  they's  a  good  many 
young  men  nowadays  as  don't  take  to  their 
drams  natural  like.  I  s'pose  it's  all  right,  but 
I  don't  understand  it.  Anyhow,  that's  no  mat- 
ter. As  I  was  a  sayin',  Boyd  Westover's  got 
that  notion  in  his  head  'bout  folks  a  bein'  down 
on  him,  an'  it'll  come  back  to  him  when  the 


JUDY    PLANS    A    CAMPAIGN    189 

snow  drives  him  down  out'n  the  mountings. 
Now  the  way  to  cure  him  of  it's  to  git  him 
'lected  to  somethin',  an'  Fs  got  the  somethin' 
picked  out.  When  he  fin's  as  folks  has  voted 
for  him  agin  t'other  feller,  he  jes'  naturally 
can't  go  on  a  thinkin'  folks  is  down  on  him. 
See?" 

"  Yes,  I  see  that,  and  your  idea  is  a  good 
one,  Judy,  if  we  can  get  him  to  run  for  some 
office." 

"  Git  him  to  run  ?  We  won't  ax  him.  We'll 
jes'  run  him  ourselves,  an'  we'll  'lect  him  too, 
ef  the  big  figgers  tops  the  little  ones  as  Fs 
always  seed  'em  do  in  a  'lection  count." 

Judy  was  apt  to  be  confident  in  her  predic- 
tions, chiefly  for  the  reason  that  she  never 
made  a  prediction  till  she  knew  all  the  facts 
that  might  bear  in  any  way  upon  its  fulfil- 
ment. 

"  That's  what  I  wanted  to  see  you  about, 
Carley.  This  is  the  way  of  it.  You  kin  help, 
an'  Fm  a  bettin'  my  fingers  agin  fishhooks 
you'll  do  it." 

"  It's  a  good  bet,  Judy,"  he  interrupted. 
"  I'd  do  anything  imaginable  for  Westover, 


igo      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

and,  now  that  I  know  you,  I'd  do  even  more 
than  that  for  you.  Go  on.  What's  your 
plan?" 

"  Well,  you  see  that  measly  little  soap- 
locked  sap-head,  William  Wilberforce  Webb 
—  they's  more  name  to  the  man  than  man  to 
the  name  —  has  gone  an'  got  hisself  enomi- 
nated  fer  the  Senate.  That  suits  me  down  to 
the  ground.  You  an'  me  is  a  goin'  to  beat  him 
out'n  his  boots,  an'  'lect  Westover  in  his  stid. 
That's  the  game  an'  the  way  the  wind  blows, 
an'  the  lay  o'  the  land." 

"  But,  Judy,  can  we  do  it?  You  see  Webb 
has  secured  the  regular  Whig  nomination,  and 
this  is  a  strong  Whig  district." 

"  That's  all  right,"  answered  Judy,  confident 
of  the  "  figgerin'  "  she  had  made  Marcellus 
McGrath  do  on  her  slate.  "  You  see  it's  this 
a'way.  The  Democrats  ain't  got  no  chanst  to 
'lect  a  man  o'  their  own,  but  they're  a  layin' 
low  to  rip  the  righteousness  out'n  the  reg'lar 
Whig  candidate  ef  they  o-it  the  chanst,  an'  you 
an'  me's  a  goin'  to  give  'em  the  chanst.  We'll 
enominate  Westover  as  a  '  Independent  Whi? 
candidate  '  an'  every  Democrat  in  the  distric' 


JUDY    PLANS    A    CAMPAIGN    191 

'11  vote  for  him.  They  won't  be  no  Democrat 
candidate." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that,  Judy  ?  With  two 
Whigs  running  they  might  think  they  had  a 
chance  to  slip  a  Democrat  in." 

"  They  mout,  of  course,  but  they  won't," 
answered  Judy,  confidently.  "  I's  seen  to  that. 
You  don't  s'pose  Judy  Peters  was  borned  day 
before  yesterday,  do  you,  Carley?"  Then, 
without  waiting  for  him  to  protest  a  greater 
respect  for  her  age  and  experience,  she  con- 
tinued : 

"  Shouldn't  wonder  ef  the  Democrats  got 
some  local  offices  this  year.  You  see  the  moun- 
ting vote  is  uncertain.  Anyhow,  they  won't 
enominate  anybody  for  the  Senate;  or,  yes 
they  will.  They's  a  makin'  the  enomination 
to-day.  But  after  you  an'  me  has  got  West- 
over  a  goin'  their  candidate  will  withdraw  his- 
self  an'  urge  all  Democrats  to  vote  fer  West- 
over  an'  'lect  him.  You  see  the  Democrat  vote 
is  a  leetle  more'n  twenty-five  per  cent,  in  this 
Senate  distric'.  I  got  Marcellus  McGrath  to 
figger  that  out.  An'  twenty-five  per  cent,  is 
a  quarter,  Mark  says,  an*  he  knows.  Now  the 


192      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

vote  up  here  in  the  mountings  is  more'n  half 
o'  the  whole,  'cause  us  folks  up  here  raises 
more  children  than  the  planter  people  does. 
They  ain't  no  profit  in  boastin',  but  I  kin  tell 
you  jes'  confidential  like,  that  ef  Judy  Peters 
lets  her  tongue  git  too  loose  an'  the  secret  slips 
out  that  she  wants  Boyd  Westover  'lected,  you 
could  count  on  your  fingers  an'  toes  the  votes 
the  other  feller'd  git  up  here  in  the  mountings. 
Seems  to  me  like  a  sure  thing,  Carley." 

With  that  Judy  chuckled  in  satisfaction. 

"  But  you've  hearn  talk  o'  '  moral  effec',' 
haven't  you,  Carley?  " 

Farnsworth  intimated  that  he  had  some 
small  perception  of  the  meaning  of  the  terms, 
and  Judy  went  on  : 

"  Well,  what  you  an'  me's  a  playin'  for  is 
moral  effec'  on  Boyd  Westover.  As  fer  'lectin' 
him,  they  won't  be  no  trouble  'bout  that.  But 
ef  the  moral  effec'  is  to  be  strong,  we  mus'  git 
the  biggest  vote  we  kin  for  him  down  among 
the  plantation  people.  Fust  off,  then,  he's  got 
to  be  enominated  by  that  sort  o'  folks,  without 
no  hint  o'  Judy  Peters  or  the  mountings  in  it. 
That's  your  fust  job.  You  go  down  there, 


JUDY    PLANS    A    CAMPAIGN    193 

sayin  nothin'  'bout  Judy  Peters  or  the  moun- 
tings, an'  git  a  lot  o'  the  stuck-ups  to  jine  you 
in  enominatin'  him." 

In  those  days  the  "  Reformers  "  who  plead 
for  independence  in  politics  had  not  yet  in- 
vented their  ingenious  devices  for  compelling 
the  voter  to  make  a  choice  of  evils  in  deciding 
for  whom  he  would  vote.  There  were  no 
such  things  as  "  official  ballots  "  limiting  the 
choice  of  the  voter  to  men  formally  nominated. 
Every  man  was  free,  as  every  man  everywhere 
ought  to  be,  to  vote  for  whomsoever  he  pleased 
without  consulting  an  "  Australian "  ballot 
sheet  to  find  out  what  men  he  was  permitted 
to  vote  for.  And  any  man  who  aspired  to 
office  was  at  liberty  to  announce  his  candidacy 
in  person  or  through  friends  as  an  appeal  to 
his  fellow  citizens  for  their  free  suffrages,  with- 
out asking  permission  of  any  caucus  or  boss 
or  primary  or  convention,  and  without  the 
necessity  of  spending  money  corruptly  in  order 
to  secure  the  privilege  of  being  voted  for  if  his 
fellow  citizens  wished  to  vote  for  him. 

Judy  continued : 

"  When  you  git  all  the  big-bug  signatures 


i94     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

you  kin,  jest  send  a  nigger  round  to  post  up  the 
enomination  papers  everywhere.  Have  'em 
printed,  Carley,  'cause  print  sort  o'  carries 
weight,  an'  printin'  don't  cost  much,  an'  even 
ef  it  did,  'twouldn't  make  no  difference,  'cause 
I'd  pay  the  bill." 

"  You  can't  do  that,  Judy.  Westover's 
friends  down  there'll  attend  to  that.  I'll  have 
twenty  or  twenty-five  signatures  to  the  paper, 
and  I'll  have  five  or  six  hundred  printed,  so  as 
to  post  one  on  every  gate  post  and  every  tree 
that  anybody's  likely  to  look  at.  How  many 
do  you  want,  for  use  in  the  mountains  ?  " 

"  None  at  all !  Not  one !  "  answered  Judy, 
emphatically.  "  They  won't  be  needed  up  here, 
'cause  I'm  a  takin'  care  o'  the  mounting  vote, 
an'  I  ain't  a  sayin'  nothin'.  Let  'em  keep  a 
guessin'  'bout  how  the  mountings  is  a  goin' 
till  they  hears  the  answer  to  the  riddle  when 
the  polls  is  closed.  You  see  ef  they  find  out 
the  mountings  is  agin  'em  they'll  try  to  do 
somethin'  up  here,  an'  ef  they's  uncertain  they 
won't  care  to  stir  up  things.  But  besides  all 
that,  there's  the  drymatic  climax  to  think  of. 
Tom  Hardaway  tole  me  all  about  that  wunst, 


JUDY    PLANS    A    CAMPAIGN    195 

so  I  know  what  a  drymatic  climax  is,  an'  I 
mean  to  have  one  this  time,  jest  for  the  sake 
o'  that  banty  rooster,  William  Wilberforce 
Webb,  who'll  find  all  his  tail  feathers  pulled 
out  by  the  roots  when  the  'lection's  over." 

It  will  perhaps  be  inferred  from  Judy's  ut- 
terances that  her  hatreds  were  implacable  as 
her  likings  were  limitless.  For  explanation  it 
is  only  necessary  to  remember  that  Judy  Peters 
was  an  entirely  natural  person,  unaffected  by 
any  of  the  agencies  of  civilization.  To  her,  in 
sentiment  and  emotion,  compromises  were  as 
impossible  as  concessions ;  qualifications  as  un- 
thinkable as  cowardice  itself  —  and  there  was 
no  cowardice  in  Judy.  Toward  those  whose 
conduct  had  aroused  neither  animosity  nor 
affection  in  her  soul,  she  was  always  fair  with 
a  frankness  that  had  no  hypocrisy  and  no  re- 
serve in  it;  toward  those  whom  she  cherished 
as  friends  her  loyalty  was  o<f  a  sort  that  knew 
no  bounds  and  asked  no  questions;  toward 
those  whom  she  recognized  as  her  enemies,  and 
still  more  toward  those  who  were  the  enemies 
of  her  friends,  she  cherished  a  malevolence  that 
knew  no  mercy  and  that  stopped  at  nothing 


196     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

in  the  accomplishment  of  its  malignant  pur- 
poses. 

Such  was  Judy  —  a  typical  representative  of 
the  human  animal  in  his  untamed  and  natural 
state. 

"  Then  they's  another  thing,  Carley,  an'  it's 
fust  an'  foremost  in  my  thinkin'." 

"What  is  it,  Judy?" 

"  Well,  it's  this  aways.  You  see  you  an' 
me's  a  workin'  an'  a  plannin'  to  bring  West- 
over  round  all  right  again.  Now  the  'lection 
'11  do  a  mighty  sight  that  way,  but  'twon't  do 
it  all.  What  Boyd  needs  is  a  good,  hard  fight, 
an'  that's  what  you  an'  me's  got  to  give  him. 
He  ain't  to  know  nothin'  'bout  the  way  the 
'lection's  a  goin'  when  he  hears  of  his  enomi- 
nation.  He  ain't  to  know  as  how  Judy  Peters 
had  anything  to  do  with  it.  He's  jest  to  be 
told  as  how  a  lot  o'  you  stuck-ups  has  enomi- 
nated  him,  and  how  nobody  knows  where  he's 
a  been,  an'  how  they's  a  sayin'  an'  a  insinuatin' 
all  sorts  o'  things,  an*  specially  that  he's  afeard 
to  face  his  constituents.  That'll  stir  up  all  the 
fightin'  blood  they  is  in  him,  an'  they's  apt  to 
be  a  lot  o'  that  sort  o'  blood  in  a  Westover. 


JUDY    PLANS    A    CAMPAIGN    197 

It'll  set  him  hot  when  he  gits  down  your  way, 
an'  from  then  tell  the  'lection's  over  he'll  fight 
like  a  catamount  when  a  dozen  hounds  gits 
him  cornered.  That's  what  he  needs,  an'  when 
the  thing's  over,  an'  he  fin's  himself  'lected  by 
a  large  majority,  an'  sees  that  water-soaked 
piece  o'  cheap  soap  that  calls  hisself  William 
Wilberforce  Webb  a  slinkin'  off  into  his  hole 
like  a  drownded  rat,  he  won't  git  to  thinkin' 
agin'  that  folks  is  down  on  him." 

Judy's  metaphors  were  a  trifle  mixed  per- 
haps, but  her  rhetoric  had  behind  it  an  intensity 
and  a  sincerity  of  purpose  that  left  her  auditor 
in  no  doubt  as  to  her  meaning. 

"  Judy,  you're  a  brick !  "  exclaimed  Carley 
Farnsworth  rising  and  grasping  her  hand. 
"  You've  got  blood  in  your  veins,  and  sand  in 
your  gizzard,  and  a  headpiece  on  your  shoul- 
ders. I'm  with  you,  all  over  and  clear  through. 
I'm  going  back  down  the  mountain  to-morrow 
morning.  I'll  get  the  nomination  papers  out, 
and  I'll  speak  three  times  a  day  for  Westover. 
I  never  made  a  speech  in  my  life,  but  I  can  do 
it  now,  and  all  between  the  speeches  I'll  talk. 
The  words'll  flow  out  of  me  like  water  through 


198     WESTOVER  OF  W  ANAL  AH 

a  mill-tail.  And  one  thing  more,  Judy;  I'm 
a  little  fellow,  as  you  know.  I  don't  weigh 
a  hundred  and  ten  pounds,  I'm  only  five  feet 
three  in  my  shoes,  but  I  can  pull  a  trigger. 
I'll  see  to  it  that  nobody  says  anything  shame- 
ful about  Boyd  Westover  without  being  called 
to  an  interview  with  me  at  ten  paces." 

So  was  the  compact  made.  Judy  went  in- 
side and  brewed  a  bowl  of  hot  apple  toddy 
which  she  insisted  that  Carley  should  share 
with  her  "  jes'  to  bind  the  bargain/'  she  said, 
and  Carley,  unused  as  he  was  to  such  indul- 
gence, took  the  risk  of  a  next  morning's  head- 
ache by  drinking  fair  with  her. 


XIX 

THE    BEGINNING    OF    A    CAMPAIGN 

CARLEY  FARNSWORTH  never  did 
anything  by  halves.  His  methods  were 
those  of  one  engaged  in  killing  snakes. 
When  he  undertook  the  accomplishment  of  a 
purpose  he  tirelessly  left  nothing  undone  that 
might  in  the  smallest  degree  assist  in  that  ac- 
complishment. 

In  this  case  he  appealed  personally  and 
quietly  to  all  the  planters  in  the  district  to  aid 
in  the  choice  of  a  man  of  their  own  class  to 
represent  them  in  the  upper  house  of  the  Legis- 
lature, instead  of  a  shifty  lawyer  of  "  insecure 
antecedents,  unripened  position,  and  as  yet  un- 
proved character."  That  was  the  careful 
phrase  he  had  framed  for  use  while  trudging 
down  the  mountain,  and  he  used  it  so  effect- 
ively that  he  soon  had  a  score  of  the  most  in- 
199 


200     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

fluential  names  in  all  that  region  appended  to 
his  announcement  of  Boyd  Westover's  candi- 
dacy. 

But  he  was  not  satisfied  with  that.  He  re- 
minded the  two  store  keepers  at  the  Court 
House  that  Westover's  constituency  repre- 
sented in  a  large  degree  the  purchasing  capacity 
of  the  region,  and  the  two  store  keepers,  alert 
to  conserve  their  own  interests,  not  only  signed 
the  nomination  announcement,  but  secured  a 
number  of  other  and  humbler  signatures,  and 
made  of  their  stores  a  species  of  campaigning 
centres  in  Westover's  interest,  thus  giving  a 
needed  flavor  of  democracy  to  the  aristocratic 
appeal  to  the  planters  to  "  choose  for  their 
senator  a  man  whose  character,  attainments 
and  social  position  render  him  fitly  representa- 
tive of  the  district  and  its  people." 

Carley  Farnsworth  was  a  doctor  in  large 
practice.  As  such  he  was  versed  in  what  he 
called  "  the  gospel  of  keeping  the  mouth  shut." 
Accordingly  he  made  his  preliminary  canvas 
silently,  secretly  and  with  so  little  ostentation 
that  neither  Webb  nor  any  of  his  friends 
dreamed  of  what  was  going  on.  Their  first 


BEGINNING  OF  A  CAMPAIGN    201 

intimation  of  it  was  the  discovery  one  morning 
that  the  nominating  placards  were  posted  on 
the  court  house  doors,  all  over  the  fronts  of 
all  the  blacksmiths'  and  wheelrights'  shops,  on 
all  the  school  houses,  on  the  posts  of  every  gate 
that  was  licensed  to  obstruct  a  public  road,  and 
upon  every  conspicuous  tree  in  the  piedmont 
part  of  the  Senate  district. 

For  Carley  Farnsworth  had  adopted  Judy 
Peters's  view  of  "  drymatic  effect,"  and  had 
had  all  his  placards  posted  between  midnight 
and  morning  of  a  single  day. 

The  dramatic  effect  was  instantly  apparent. 
All  tongues  were  set  wagging  and  before  an- 
other night  came  everybody  in  the  region 
round  about  knew  that  Boyd  Westover  was 
a  candidate  for  the  Senate,  nominated  in  his 
absence  and  supported  by  many  of  the  most 
influential  men  in  the  community. 

What  it  meant,  nobody  knew,  and  everybody 
asked  everybody  else.  Those  who  asked  Car- 
ley  Farnsworth  got  for  reply : 

"  Oh,  it  is  only  that  some  of  us  think  we 
ought  to  have  a  fitter  man  than  Webb  to  repre- 
sent us  in  the  Senate,  and  we've  nominated 


202     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

Westover  without  his  knowledge  or  con- 
sent." 

"  But  where  is  he  ?  "  was  sure  to  be  the  next 
question.  "  Is  he  afraid  to  face  the  public?" 

"  No,"  Carley  answered  in  every  case.  "  If 
you  get  it  into  your  head  that  Boyd  Westover 
is  afraid  of  anything  or  anybody,  you'll  be  as 
badly  mistaken  as  if  you'd  burnt  your  boots. 
He's  away  on  a  hunting  and  fishing  expedition, 
just  now,  and  he  knows  nothing  of  his  nomi- 
nation. When  we  notify  him  of  it  he'll  be  here 
to  face  anything  or  anybody,  and  in  the  mean- 
while there  are  some  others  of  us  who  are  pre- 
pared to  do  any  '  facing '  that  may  be  neces- 
sary." 

This  last  utterance  was  intended  to  check 
unfavorable  references  to  Boyd  Westover's  un- 
fortunate experience,  and  it  was  in  the  main 
effective.  For  Carley  Farnsworth,  small  as  he 
was,  had  a  reputation  as  a  fighting  force  of  no 
mean  pretensions.  Three  times  he  had  met 
antagonists  on  the  duelling  field.  On  one  of 
those  occasions  he  had  seriously  wounded  his 
foe,  and  then  had  tenderly  cared  for  him,  nurs- 
ing him  back  to  health  in  his  own  house.  On 


BEGINNING  OF  A  CAMPAIGN    203 

the  two  other  occasions  his  antagonists  had 
apologized.  In  still  another  case  Carley  had 
shown  a  loftier  courage.  After  accepting  a 
challenge  he  had  said  to  his  seconds : 

"  I  am  satisfied  that  I'm  in  the  wrong  in  this 
matter.  I  was  entirely  sincere  in  making  the 
charge  for  which  I  am  challenged,  but  I  made 
it  upon  misinformation,  and  I  am  prepared  to 
withdraw  and  apologize  for  it.  Communicate 
that  decision  to  my  antagonist.  If  he  still 
wants  a  shot  at  me,  he  can  have  it  of  course." 

Such  was  Carley  Farnsworth,  and  in  view 
of  the  veiled  warning  his  words  gave,  it  was 
felt  that  an  extreme  discretion  in  discussing 
matters  pertaining  to  Westover's  candidacy 
was,  to  say  the  least,  desirable. 

Yet  Webb  and  his  friends  felt  that  some- 
thing must  be  done  to  stem  the  tide  created 
by  the  Westover  nomination.  The  names  ap- 
pended to  it  were  those  of  such  men  that  their 
support  of  any  candidacy  in  opposition,  seri- 
ously imperilled  Webb's  chance  of  election, 
which  until  then  had  been  regarded  as  a  fore- 
gone conclusion  that  needed  no  looking  after. 

"  Something  must  be  done,"  and  the  fact 


204     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

that  Colonel  Conway's  signature  was  conspicu- 
ously absent  from  the  nomination  paper,  sug- 
gested the  nature  of  that  "  something."  It  was 
known  that  The  Oaks  and  Wanalah  were  ad- 
joining plantations;  that  the  Con  ways  and 
the  Westovers  had  been  the  closest  intimates 
for  generations;  that  Colonel  Conway  had 
wearied  all  ears  with  his  eulogiums  of  West- 
over's  gallantry  in  rescuing  his  daughter  in 
time  of  peril.  Why  then  was  Colonel  Con- 
way's  name  absent  from  a  list  that  it  should 
naturally  have  headed?  Was  it  that  he  be- 
lieved in  Westover's  guilt  in  spite  of  the  re- 
vealed facts,  as  some  others  professed  to  do? 
Or  was  there  truth  in  the  rumor,  which  was 
vaguely  floating  about,  that  Westover  had 
jilted  Colonel  Conway's  daughter? 

That  last  suggestion  was  quickly  negatived 
in  all  well  ordered  minds  by  the  certain  knowl- 
edge that  if  Westover  or  any  other  man  on 
earth  had  been  guilty  of  such  offence  toward 
a  daughter  of  the  house  of  Conway,  the  head 
of  that  house  would  have  horse-whipped  the 
offender  in  public  and  at  the  point  of  a  pistol. 

Nevertheless  there  remained  the  fact  that 


BEGINNING  OF  A  CAMPAIGN    205 

Colonel  Conway's  name  did  not  appear  among 
those  nominating  Boyd  Westover,  and  that  fact 
greatly  encouraged  Webb  and  his  adherents 
when  they  found  that  they  must  fight  tooth  and 
nail  for  an  election  which  they  had  deemed 
secure  beyond  the  necessity  of  endeavor  of  any 
sort.  They  set  to  work,  not  so  much  to  find 
out  the  reason  for  Colonel  Conway's  refusal 
of  his  name,  as  to  insinuate  conjectural  solu- 
tions of  that  riddle  that  might  be  hurtfully 
whispered  into  doubting  ears. 

"  There  must  be  something  wrong  in  that 
quarter." 

"  It  isn't  easy  to  explain." 

"  Of  course  Colonel  Conway  has  his  rea- 
sons, even  if  he  doesn't  give  them." 

"  If  there  wasn't  something  wrong,  why 
didn't  Colonel  Conway  put  his  name  first  on 
the  list?" 

These,  and  like  things  could  be  said  without 
incurring  a  challenge  from  Carley  Farns- 
worth's  wrath,  and  they  were  diligently  and 
hurtfully  said ;  hurtfully  because  in  that  com- 
munity the  least  suspicion  that  a  man  had  been 
other  than  chivalrous  in  his  treatment  of  a 


206     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

woman  was  damning  beyond  the  possibility  of 
forgiving. 

This  thing  troubled  Carley  Farnsworth 
more  than  he  liked  to  admit  even  to  himself. 
A  good  many  signatures  had  been  denied  to 
his  nominating  paper  on  the  sole  ground  that 
Colonel  Conway  had  refused  to  sign  it,  and  the 
absence  of  his  signature  was  the  one  effective 
plea  of  Webb  and  his  followers. 

When  Carley  Farnsworth  had  gone  to  Colo- 
nel Conway  to  ask  his  aid,  the  sturdy  old 
planter  had  replied: 

"  I  have  reasons  of  my  own  for  not  signing 
your  paper,  Dr.  Farnsworth.  Please  do  not 
ask  me  what  they  are." 

To  that  there  was  no  possible  response.  The 
request  with  which  the  Colonel  concluded  his 
reply  made  a  peremptory  end  of  the  conversa- 
tion so  far  as  that  subject  was  concerned,  and 
so  Carley  Farnsworth  talked  of  crops  and  the 
curing  of  hams  instead. 

But  Carley  Farnsworth  felt  that  this  doubt, 
this  question,  this  suspicion,  was  a  seriously 
undermining  influence  in  his  campaign  for  his 
friend,  which  there  was  no  means  of  meeting 


BEGINNING  OF  A  CAMPAIGN    207 

in  Boyd  Westover's  absence.  For,  in  whispers 
and  by  questions  that  could  not  be  challenged 
as  assertions,  Webb  and  his  followers  were 
suggesting  that  Colonel  Conway  was  only 
waiting  for  Westover's  return  before  making 
public  the  reasons  that  impelled  him  to  with- 
hold his  approval  of  his  neighbor's  candidacy, 
and  that  the  fear  of  Colonel  Conway's  wrath 
was  the  real  reason  for  Boyd  Westover's  con- 
tinued absence. 

Carley's  first  impulse  was  to  write  to  Judy 
Peters,  telling  her  that  Boyd's  presence  was 
necessary  and  giving  her  the  reasons.  But 
upon  reflection  he  decided  that  this  was  a  case 
in  which  Judy's  objection  to  "  puttin'  things 
down  in  writin'  "  was  peculiarly  applicable  and 
valid.  So  he  sought  converse  with  Edgar  Cof- 
fey,  who,  under  Judy's  instructions,  was  "  a 
hangin'  round  "  the  lower  parts  of  the  district, 
and  confided  to  him  the  urgent  and  explanatory 
message  he  wished  Judy  to  receive. 

On  receipt  of  the  message,  Judy  acted 
promptly,  but  in  her  own  way.  To  Edgar 
Coffey  she  said : 

"  You  go  home  now,  an'  look  after  things 


208     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

there.  You's  got  nine  good  hogs  to  kill  this 
fall  an'  your  wife's  a  feedin'  'em  on  apples. 
Your  wife's  purty,  Edgar,  an'  her  ways  is 
pleasin',  but  she  ain't  got  the  sense  she  was 
horned  with.  She  mixes  the  strippin's  with  the 
milk  jes'  as  ef  strippin's  wa'n't  purty  nigh  the 
same  as  cream,  an'  she  hitches  a  horse  to  the 
body  of  a  tree,  'stead  of  a  swingin'  limb,  so's 
the  beast  can  break  the  halter  an'  go  home, 
leavin'  her  to  walk.  She  done  that  at  church 
only  two  weeks  ago  come  nex'  Sunday.  An' 
now  she's  a  feedin'  hogs  on  apples  when  she 
orter  be  a  givin'  'em  corn  to  harden  the  meat 
fer  killin'  time.  So  you  better  go  home  an' 
fix  things.  I'll  ten'  to  the  rest." 

Edgar  was  grievously  disappointed.  He 
had  confidently  hoped  to  be  himself  Judy's 
messenger  to  Boyd  Westover,  but  Judy  was 
much  too  sagacious  to  permit  that. 

"  Boyd'll  ax  questions,"  she  reflected, 
"  'cause  he'll  be  full  o'  wonderment  'bout  this 
here  thing,  an'  Edgar  mout  let  the  right  an- 
swers slip  out.  Theonidas  can't  do  that,  'cause 
he  don't  know  nothin'  'bout  the  answers." 

She  expected  Theonidas  to  visit  her  that  eve- 


BEGINNING  OF  A  CAMPAIGN    209 

ning  to  secure  a  bag  of  corn  meal  that  she 
knew  he  and  Boyd  sorely  needed.  She  would 
send  her  message  by  Theonidas,  therefore,  and 
would  leave  the  message  to  take  the  place  of 
the  meal. 

It  was  supper  time  when  Theonidas  arrived, 
bringing  a  wild  turkey  gobbler  and  a  dozen 
squirrels  on  his  back. 

"Them's  all  right,"  said  Judy,  feeling  of 
the  game.  "  Tell  Boyd  he'd  orter  'a'  saved 
'em  to  take  to  Wanalah  to-morrow.  He'll  be 
a  entertainin'  folks  there  an'  it  'ud  'a'  been 
handy  to  have  some  game  in  the  house." 

"  He  ain't  a  thinkin'  o'  comin'  down  the 
mounting  yit,"  replied  the  boy  in  open  eyed 
wonder. 

"I  know  he  ain't,"  Judy  replied.  "But 
when  you  git  back  up  there  to-night  —  an' 
you's  a  goin'  to  start  back  soon's  you  git  yer 
supper  —  he'll  be  a  thinkin'  about  it,  an'  'twon't 
take  much  thinkin'  to  set  them  legs  o'  his'n  a 
movin'.  You  come  an'  git  your  supper,  an' 
then  mosey  up  the  mounting  as  fast  as  yer  feet 
kin  foller  one  another.  An'  you're  to  tell  Boyd 
that  they's  the  devil  to  pay  an'  no  funds,  down 


210     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

Wanalah  way.  Tell  him  I  says  he's  got  to  git 
down  thar'  quick  an'  face  the  music." 

"  What's  it  all  about,  Mammy?"  asked 
Theonidas  with  not  unnatural  curiosity. 

"  That  ain't  none  o'  your  business,"  Judy 
replied,  "  an'  ef  you  don't  know  nothin'  you 
can't  git  it  wrong  in  tellin'  it.  You  jes'  say 
what  I's  tole  you  to  say,  an'  by  midnight  he'll 
be  a  stumblin'  down  the  mounting  to  find  out 
what's  the  matter.  But  tell  him  —  now  mind, 
Theonidas,  an'  listen  to  what  I's  a  sayin'  —  " 
for  the  boy  was  reaching  across  the  table  for 
a  second  helping  of  some  dish  he  specially  rel- 
ished, and  Judy  feared  that  he  was  not  attend- 
ing to  her  instructions  —  "  listen  to  what  I's 
a  sayin'  —  " 

"  I's  is  a  listenin',  Mammy,"  the  boy  replied. 
"  Fs  heard  every  word." 

"  Is  you?  Then  what  was  it  I  said  last?  " 
she  demanded. 

"  You  said  as  how  that  by  midnight  he'd  be 
a  stumblin'  down  the  mounting  to  find  out 
what's  the  matter." 

"  Right  you  is ! "  said  Judy  approvingly. 
"  Now  that's  business,  an*  so  is  what  I'm  a 


BEGINNING  OF  A  CAMPAIGN    211 

goin'  to  say.  You  is  to  tell  him  not  to  come 
near  Judy  Peters' s  place.  Tell  him  they's  rea- 
sons. Tell  him  to  go  down  t'other  road  Ar- 
ricktown  way.  It's  shorter  an'  quicker,  but  tell 
him  they's  reasons  besides  the  shortness  an' 
quickness.  An'  when  you's  tole  him  all  that 
tell  him  your  Mammy  says  he  kin  count  on  her 
tell  death!  That'll  cheer  him  up,  like." 


XX 

THE    SATISFACTION    OF    W.    W.    WEBB 

WHEN  William  Wilberforce  Webb 
found  that  he  had  to  fight  for  an 
election  which  he  had  supposed  to 
be  securely  his  by  virtue  of  his  regular  nomina- 
tion as  the  candidate  of  the  dominant  party, 
he  hastily  called  his  friends  and  advisers  to- 
gether for  consultation. 

In  the  course  of  the  discussion  it  was  decided 
that  the  weak  spot  in  Webb's  campaign  lay  in 
his  neglect  to  do  anything  to  secure  the  moun- 
tain vote. 

"  We'll  divide  about  even  down  here,"  said 
the  shrewdest  politician  among  Webb's  follow- 
ing. "  You  see  the  whole  Democratic  vote  is 
just  so  much  withdrawn  from  Westover's 
strength  among  the  planters,  and  the  Demo- 
crats seem  to  be  in  earnest  this  year.  That 
leaves  us  with  a  small  but  secure  majority  in 

212 


SATISFACTION    OF    WEBB 


213 


this  part  of  the  district.  The  decision  will 
rest  with  the  mountain  vote,  and  so  far  as  I 
can  see  we've  done  nothing  to  secure  that.'' 

"  I  haven't  thought  it  necessary,"  answered 
Webb,  "  until  now.  You  see  the  mountain 
people  have  seemed  entirely  indifferent,  and 
they  seem  so  now.  As  they  gave  me  a  big 
majority  at  the  last  election,  I  have  reckoned 
upon  party  lines  to  give  me  a  like  majority 
this  time." 

"  Have  you  seen  Judy  Peters  ?  "  asked  one 
of  the  advisers. 

"  No.  I  have  taken  the  mountain  vote  for 
granted,  as  about  three-fourths  Whig  and  one- 
fourth  Democratic.  You  see  none  of  us  ex- 
pected this  intrusion  of  Boyd  Westover  into 
the  campaign." 

"  No,  none  of  us  expected  it,"  answered  an- 
other, "  but  we've  run  up  against  the  unex- 
pected, and  we've  got  to  meet  it.  Webb, 
you've  got  to  go  up  and  see  Judy  Peters.  If 
you  please  her  she'll  settle  the  election  out  of 
hand,  but  if  you  offend  her,  then  God  save  us, 
for  no  lesser  power  can !  " 

"I'll  go,"  answered  Webb,   "but  I  really 


214     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

don't  think  it  necessary.  I  had  a  talk  with 
Edgar  Coffey  the  other  day  —  in  fact  I  had 
him  dine  with  me  at  the  hotel  —  and  he  as- 
sured me  that  Judy  Peters  was  taking  no  inter- 
est in  the  campaign.  He  said  Judy  cares  so 
little  about  it  that  even  he  hadn't  heard  an  ex- 
pression of  opinion  from  her  lips.  So  I  have 
taken  the  normal  Whig  majority  in  the  moun- 
tains for  granted." 

Thereupon  "  Foggy  "  —  he  had  some  other 
name  but  nobody  ever  remembered  it  —  arose 
and  walked  twice  across  the  floor  before  speak- 
ing. He  was  barkeeper,  constable,  jailor,  liv- 
ery man,  faro  dealer,  hound-master,  money 
lender,  note  shaver,  and  pretty  nearly  every- 
thing else  that  was  disreputable,  whether  offi- 
cial or  unofficial,  at  the  county  seat,  and  in  his 
various  capacities  he  was  rightly  supposed  to 
know  politics  and  men  as  nobody  else  in  the 
county  did.  At  last  he  turned  to  Webb  and 
asked : 

"  Was  it  yesterday  or  the  day  before,  that 
you  were  born?  Because  if  it  was  longer  ago 
than  yesterday  there  really  can  be  no  excuse 
for  your  faith  in  Edgar  Coffey.  Don't  you 


SATISFACTION    OF    WEBB      215 

know  he  was  never  caught  telling  the  truth  but 
once  in  his  life,  and  that  time  he  was  talking 
in  his  sleep  after  too  heavy  a  load  of  apple 
jack,  and  took  it  all  back  as  soon  as  he  waked 
up?  Now  my  advice  to  you  is  to  get  your 
walking  boots  on  as  quick  as  ever  you  can, 
and  go  up  to  Judy  Peters's  for  a  consultation 
as  to  the  mountain  vote.  And  you  want  to 
mind  your  eye  with  Judy,  for  if  you  offend 
her  your  goose  is  cooked  and  your  cake's 
dough." 

In  accordance  with  this  suggestion,  Webb 
prepared  himself  for  a  journey  up  the  mountain 
road,  but  as  he  had  a  speaking  engagement  to 
keep,  he  could  not  make  the  proposed  visit 
until  a  day  later.  In  the  meanwhile,  and  by 
way  of  placation,  he  sent  a  messenger  with  a 
note  to  Judy,  in  which  he  wrote : 

"  I  feel  that  I  have  neglected  my  duty  in  not 
visiting  you  before,  but  I  have  had  my  days 
and  nights  so  full  of  work  that  it  has  really 
seemed  impossible  until  now.  I  am  going  up 
to-morrow  to  enjoy  one  of  your  matchless  sup- 
pers and  have  a  talk  with  you  about  whatever 
interests  you.  As  for  my  campaign  for  the 


216     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

Senate,  I  know  your  loyalty  too  well  to  doubt 
that  it  has  your  approval;  and  now  that  the 
intrusion  of  a  third  candidate  has  rendered  the 
result  somewhat  insecure  in  the  piedmont  part 
of  the  district,  I  hope  to  interest  you  so  far 
that  you  will  help  me  stir  up  a  rousing  vote  in 
the  mountains." 

Judy's  sole  comment  on  the  letter  was : 
"  They'll  be  a  rousin'  vote  in  the  mountings 
sure  enough." 

Then  she  turned  to  Sapphira  and  with  a 
relish  in  her  tone,  said  : 

"  Say,  Sapphiry,  you  an'  me's  got  to  lay  our- 
selves out  on  tomorry  night's  supper.  They's 
a  candidate  a  comin'." 

"  Is  he  one  you's  a  goin'  to  'lect  ?  " 
"  Yes  —  to  stay  at  home.  But  may  be  you's 
noticed,  Sapphiry,  that  whenever  I  picks  out  a 
shoat  to  be  turned  into  victuals  next  day,  I  al- 
ways gives  that  shoat  fust  chanst  at  the  butter- 
milk, an'  see  to  it  as  how  he  kin  jes'  lay  down 
all  night,  'longside  o'  more  corn  'n  he  could 
eat  in  a  week.  They  ain't  much  difference 
'twix'  candidates  an'  shoats  I  reckon,  —  least- 
ways some  candidates.  So  you  an'  me's  jes' 


SATISFACTION    OF    WEBB      217 

got  to  git  up  a  supper  fer  to-morry  night  sich 
as  the  candidate  never  seen  in  his  life  before. 
You  go  to  the  smoke  house  an'  git  the  ham 
that  hangs  wrong  end  up  on  the  third  row  o' 
hooks,  three  hams  from  the  left  end.  Wash 
it  an'  put  it  on  to  bile  right  away  so's  that  it'll 
have  time  to  git  firm  cold.  They's  half  a  shoat 
in  the  spring  house,  an'  we'll  wring  the  necks 
o'  some  fryin'-size  chickens  to-night  so's  to 
have  'em  ready.  Tomorry's  the  reg'lar  twice 
a  week  churnin'  day,  so's  that  they'll  be  fresh 
butter  an'  plenty  o'  buttermilk  ef  the  can- 
didate happens  to  like  buttermilk.  I'll  set  a 
bakin'  o'  bread  tomorry  mornin'  so's  we  kin 
have  a  hot  loaf  fer  supper.  As  fer  beat  bis- 
cuit an'  batter  bread,  we  kin  make  'em  when 
the  time  comes.  Say,  Sapphiry,  le's  surprise 
the  candidate !  " 

Judy  uttered  that  sentence  with  enthusiasm 
and  with  a  smile  on  her  face.  A  happy  thought 
had  come  to  her. 

"  Tain't  hog-killin'  time  yit,  nor  yit  'twon't 
be  fer  more'n  a  month  to  come,  an'  so  nobody 
ain't  seen  no  sassage  sence  last  winter.  Le's 
make  some,  out'n  the  trimmin's  o'  that  half  a 


218     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

shoat!  You  an'  me  kin  chop  it  an'  season  it 
to-night  an'  it'll  be  extry  superfine  by  supper 
time  to-morrow." 

"  Well,  you  certainly  is  a  layin'  yourself  out 
fer  that  there  candidate,  Mammy,"  said  Sap- 
phira  in  admiration  of  her  mother's  enthusi- 
asm. "  Is  you  a  goin'  to  give  him  a  chanst  at 
your  old  peach  and  honey?  " 

"  What !  peach  an'  honey  fer  that  miserable 
wild  mustard  patch  of  a  candidate  ?  Well,  not 
ef  I  see  it  fust.  Apple  jack  he'll  drink,  an' 
it'll  come  out  o'  that  there  bar'l  as  was  made 
out  o'  last  year's  windfalls  an'  cullin's,  at  that. 
They  ain't  no  fine  flavor  to  that  slop,  but  it'll 
make  drunk  come  just  the  same,  an'  I  reckon 
that's  all  a  half  breed  like  Webb's  got  any  call 
to  expect  o'  liquor.  The  best  o'  victuals  ain't 
none  too  good  fer  anybody  as  sets  down  to 
Judy  Peters's  table,  but  politeness  an'  liquor 
goes  by  favor,  an'  I  ain't  got  no  favor  to  spare 
fer  that  doggoned  counterfeit-copper  cuss, 
Webb." 

When  Webb  appeared,  he  found  Judy  ar- 
rayed in  colors  that  the  lilies  of  the  field  never 
dared  assume  and  that  Solomon  in  all  his 


SATISFACTION    OF    WEBB      219 

glory  did  not  dream  of.  She  had  even  put  on 
her  bracelets  and  her  breast  pin  of  green  glass, 
simulating  a  setting  of  emeralds.  She  had 
borrowed  Sapphira's  earrings  —  great  golden 
hoops  that  had  cost  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  — 
and  was  wearing  them  in  honor  of  the  occa- 
sion. 

Her  gorgeousness  of  adornment  and  the 
barbaric  lavishness  of  the  supper  she  served 
him,  convinced  Webb  at  the  outset  that  her 
favor  was  altogether  his,  that  the  mountain 
vote  was  secure,  and  that  in  spite  of  all  alarms 
his  triumphant  election  was  as  certain  as  any 
human  event  could  be.  Perhaps  Judy  had  in- 
tended to  create  that  impression  on  his  mind. 
Certainly  she  did  nothing  to  correct  or  remove 
it,  and  by  the  time  supper  was  over  Webb  was 
so  well  satisfied  with  things  as  they  were  that 
he  did  not  hesitate  to  indulge  freely  in  the 
apple  jack  that  Judy  set  out  for  his  consump- 
tion. 

When  she  had  got  his  tongue  "  loosened 
up  "  to  her  liking,  and  not  till  then,  she  brought 
the  conversation  around  to  subjects  connected 
with  the  political  campaign.  Webb  had  not 


220      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

ventured  to  introduce  those  subjects  earlier. 
His  instinct  was  keen  enough  to  realize  that 
in  Judy  Peters's  house  Judy  Peters  was  herself 
the  director  of  the  conversation,  and  he  had 
heard,  till  the  fact  was  deeply  impressed  on  his 
mind,  that  the  person  who  forced  the  talk  into 
channels  of  his  own  choosing  was  pretty  sure 
to  find  himself  snubbed  and  snuffed  out  by 
some  caustic  and  high-flavored  utterance  of 
her  majesty  the  Queen  of  the  Mountains. 

"  Tell  me  'bout  your  campaign,  William 
Wilberforce  Webb,"  she  said  after  he  had  had 
a  third  or  fourth  helping  of  apple  jack.  Then 
she  changed  her  mind  —  or  perhaps  the  change 
had  been  in  her  mind  all  the  while  —  and  said : 
"  No,  don't  bother  'bout  that  yit.  Tell  me,  in- 
stid  o'  that,  what  you's  a  luggin'  all  that  name 
around  for.  I  s'pose  when  you  was  a  boy  they 
called  you  jes'  Billy  Webb.  Why  ain't  that 
a  good  'nough  name  for  you  now?  You  see 
us  folks  up  here  in  the  mountings  ain't  got 
much  respec'  nor  patience  like  with  names 
bigger'n  the  men  what  wears  'em.  They  was 
wunst  a  feller  come  up  here  what  called  his- 
self  James  Augustus  de  Forrest  Hyde,  an'  we 


SATISFACTION    OF    WEBB      221 

run  him  out'n  the  mountings.  He  come  back 
arter  a  while  a  callin'  hisself  plain  Jim  Hyde, 
an'  he's  been  a  breedin'  mules  successful,  like, 
ever  since.  You  see  when  he  fust  come  he 
brought  more  name  along  than  he  could  tote, 
an'  that's  jest  what  you's  a  doin'  with  your 
William  Wilberforce  Webb.  It  sounds  well 
down  'mong  the  stuck  ups,  but  'tain't  no  go  up 
here  in  the  mountings.  Us  folks  likes  some- 
thin'  plainer  —  somethin'  like  Boyd  West- 
over." 

"  Of  course  you're  right,  Judy,"  answered 
Webb  flinching  a  little  at  the  name  of  his  an- 
tagonist, "  but  when  a  man's  parents  have 
given  him  a  long  name  what's  he  to  do 
but  wear  it?  A  man's  name's  a  part  of 
him." 

"  Yes,  an'  it's  that  part  us  folks  up  here  in 
the  mountings  don't  like.  It's  the  fool  part. 
Why  ain't  '  W.  W.  Webb'  a  good  enough 
name  fer  a  one-horse  vehicle  like  you  ?  " 

It  was  the  epithet  rather  than  the  question 
that  staggered  Webb,  but  that  it  did  stagger 
him  was  indicated  to  Judy's  shrewd  observa- 
tion by  the  fact  that  he  took  three  deep 


222      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

draughts  of  the  apple  brandy  before  answering. 
At  last  he  said: 

"  Well,  you  see,  Judy  —  " 

"  No,  I  don't  see,"  she  interrupted,  "  an'  you 
ain't  a  goin'  to  make  me  see  sense  in  a  thing 
what  ain't  got  no  sense  in  it." 

"  I  was  going  to  say  —  "  he  began  again. 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  was.  Never  mind  a 
sayin'  it.  Listen  to  me.  Ef  I'm  to  help  you 
in  your  canvass  up  here  in  the  mountings,  you's 
got  to  shorten  your  name  somehow.  Mind  I 
don't  say  Fs  a  goin'  to  help  you,"  —  Judy's 
sturdy  love  of  truth  in  the  abstract  prompted 
this  qualification  of  what  was  essentially  a  lie 
in  the  concrete  —  "  but  ef  Fm  to  help  you, 
you's  got  to  give  me  a  shorter  name  'n  William 
Wilberforce  Webb  to  call  you  by.  You  see 
every  time  I  try  to  say  anything  'bout  you  my 
mouth  gits  so  choked  up,  like,  with  that  durned 
worm  fence  of  a  name  that  the  rest  o'  the 
words  won't  come  out  nohow." 

"  Fm  sorry,  Judy,  awfully  sorry  that  my 
name  offends  you.  Just  call  me  Billy  here- 
after." 

"  That's  all  right  for  me,"  answered  Judy, 


SATISFACTION    OF    WEBB      223 

"  but  you  was  enominated  by  the  name  of 
William  Wilberforce  Webb,  an  that's  the  way 
it'll  be  wrote  on  the  pollin'  books.  How's  the 
folks  up  here  in  the  mountings  to  know  as  how 
Billy  Webb  an'  William  Wilberforce  Webb  is 
the  same  feller?  The  two  don't  sound  much 
alike.  Howsomever  we'll  try  an'  manage  that. 
Now  tell  me  'bout  how  things  is  a  goin'  down 
plantation  ways." 

In  the  embarrassment  created  by  Judy's  crit- 
ical reflections  upon  his  name,  Webb  had  filled 
his  large  tumbler  again  with  the  insidious  in- 
toxicant, forgetting  to  add  water,  and  had 
taken  several  swigs  of  the  "  reverend  spirits," 
which  is  what  Virginians  always  called  undi- 
luted brandy  or  whiskey.  Judy  had  observed 
the  fact  but  had  not  discouraged  it.  Her  son, 
Daniel  Webster,  was  at  home  that  night  to  put 
Webb  to  bed  if  need  be,  and  meanwhile  she 
wanted  to  find  out  from  Webb's  indiscretion 
what  she  had  no  hope  of  learning  in  any  other 
way,  namely,  "  all  about  the  gal  that's  mixed 
up  in  the  matter." 

To  that  end  she  interrupted  Webb  many 
times,  checking  his  tendency  to  indulge  in 


224      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

generalities  and  holding  him  down  to  facts. 
He  told  her  how  greatly  Boyd  Westover's  in- 
trusive nomination  had  disturbed  what  had 
promised  to  be  a  "  walk-over  campaign  " ;  how 
the  refusal  of  Colonel  Conway  to  sign  Boyd's 
nomination  paper  was  exciting  suspicion,  and 
much  else  of  interest  to  which  Judy  paid  no 
heed.  She  harked  back  instead  to  the  Conway 
matter. 

"  What  was  the  matter  with  Conway?  "  she 
asked.  "  Has  him  an'  young  Westover  had 
any  fallin'  out?" 

Webb  had  attained  that  condition  of  alco- 
holic indiscretion  in  which  the  impulse  is  to  be 
confidential  and  to  say  things  far  better  left 
unsaid.  He  unbosomed  himself. 

"  Well,  you  see,  Judy,"  he  said,  "  there  are 
some  things  we  don't  mention,  but  you're  a 
friend  of  mine,  Judy,  and  you're  entitled  to 
my  confidence.  You  see  it's  this  way.  The 
talk  is  that  Boyd  Westover  and  Colonel  Con- 
way's  daughter  Margaret  were  engaged  to  be 
married,  when  Westover  committed  —  or  was 
accused  of  committing  the  crime  of  which  he 
was  convicted  and  for  which  he  was  sentenced 


SATISFACTION    OF    WEBB      225 

to  the  penitentiary.  Some  say  she  stood  by 
him  and  he  threw  her  over ;  some  suggest  that 
he  couldn't  explain  things  to  her  satisfaction  — 
that  she  asked  him  questions  he  couldn't  an- 
swer ;  some  say  he  went  back  to  Wanalah  eager 
to  marry  the  girl,  and  she  threw  him  over 
because  she  didn't  believe  in  his  innocence. 
You  see,  Judy,  he  is,  after  all's  said  and  done, 
only  a  pardoned  criminal,  and  his  pardon  was 
based  only  on  the  confession  of  a  poor  de- 
mented fellow  who  has  since  been  sent  to 
Staunton  as  a  lunatic.  Anyhow  it's  plain  that 
Colonel  Conway  believes  Boyd  Westover  to  be 
guilty,  just  as  I  do  and  as  a  good  many  other 
folks  down  our  way  do.  If  he  isn't  guilty, 
why's  he  hiding  himself?  Why  don't  he  come 
into  the  district  and  face  the  music,  instead  of 
leaving  that  little  monkey,  Carley  Farnsworth, 
to  do  everything  for  him?  You  never  saw 
Carley  Farnsworth,  did  you,  Judy?  Of 
course  you  didn't.  Wrell,  he's  a  little  jacka- 
napes of  a  doctor  that's  equally  ready  to  give 
his  blue  pills  by  the  mouth  or  at  the  point  of 
a  pistol.  Boyd  Westover  has  put  him  forward 
to  overawe  and  intimidate  everybody;  but  the 


226     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

Democrats  will  hold  their  vote  this  year  and 
with  your  help,  Judy,  we'll  make  this  election 
memorable." 

"  I  don't  know  jest  what  that  last  word 
means,  Billy,  but  after  what  you's  been  a  tellin' 
me  you  kin  bet  your  next  winter's  meat  I'll 
have  a  hand  in  this  here  'lection." 

Judy  never  made  promises  that  she  did  not 
fulfil.  But  if  a  candidate  misinterpreted  the 
phrases  she  used  in  making  promises,  she 
stoutly  held  that  the  fault  was  his  and  not 
hers. 

"  My  words  is  good  for  what  they  call  fer," 
she  was  accustomed  to  say,  "  but  good  money 
don't  stand  fer  no  counterfeits." 

When  she  had  got  all  she  wanted  out  of 
Webb,  she  sent  that  worthy  to  bed,  satisfied 
in  his  soul  with  things  as  they  were,  and  as 
confident  of  the  mountain  vote  in  his  behalf 
as  of  the  excellence  of  Judy's  cookery  and  the 
exhilaration  that  resided  in  her  apple  jack. 


XXI 

FLAGS    FLYING 

JUDY  was  right  in  her  reckoning  as  to  the 
effect  of  her  blind  message  upon  the  mood 
and  movements  of  Boyd  Westover.  It 
was  not  far  from  midnight  when  Theonidas 
reported  what  his  mother  had  said,  and  al- 
though the  night  was  one  of  extreme  darkness 
and  a  drizzling  rain  was  falling,  Boyd  West- 
over  set  out  at  once  to  stumble  down  the  pre- 
cipitous mountain  path  to  the  scarcely  less  pre- 
cipitous mountain  road  three  miles  away,  and 
thence  down,  down,  down,  to  whatever  level 
the  road  might  ultimately  reach. 

As  he  had  never  journeyed  over  that  road 
before,  and  as  its  perils  by  night  were  very 
real  and  very  great,  Theonidas  besought  him 
to  postpone  the  start  until  the  dawn,  but  he 
refused  to  heed,  and  bidding  the  boy  transfer 
the  camp  equipments  to  Judy  Peters' s  house, 
227 


228      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

to  await  orders,  set  off  with  the  energy  of  a 
madman.  Yet  he  had  never  been  saner  in  all 
his  life  or  in  better  condition  to  meet  difficulty. 

The  delphic  character  of  Judy's  message  left 
him,  of  course,  in  doubt  as  to  the  occasion  of 
the  talk  about  himself  and  to  his  detriment  in 
his  own  neighborhood,  but  from  the  first  he 
had  not  a  shadow  of  doubt  as  to  the  substance 
and  subject  of  that  talk.  He  knew  without 
telling  that  his  fellow  men  had  found  some  oc- 
casion —  he  could  not  guess  what  —  for  dis- 
cussing his  character  and  conduct  and  for  re- 
calling to  his  disadvantage  his  conviction  of 
crime,  his  pardon  and  all  the  rest  of  it. 

But  he  faced  this  sort  of  thing  now  in  very 
different  mood  from  that  which  had  been  his 
a  few  weeks  before.  Where  before  his  impulse 
had  been  to  shrink  away  from  the  horror,  his 
mood  now  was  to  seek  it  out,  to  dare  it,  to 
defy  it,  to  fight  it  with  all  the  determination 
of  a  vigorous  manhood  aroused  to  self  defence 
and  not  averse  to  vengeance.  Where  before 
he  had  instinctively  sought  solitude  as  a  refuge, 
his  impulse  now  was  to  seek  the  haunts  of  his 
fellow  men,  to  challenge  the  criticism  that  had 


FLAGS    FLYING  229 

before  so  appalled  him,  to  face  the  world  with 
head  erect  and  dare  Fate  to  meet  him  hand  to 
hand,  foot  to  foot,  eye  to  eye  in  combat. 

The  simple  fact  was  that  he  had  ceased  to 
be  morbid.  In  his  life  up  there  among  the 
mountain  tops  he  had  regained  his  health  of 
mind  and  body.  In  his  contests  with  Nature's 
forces  and  his  triumph  over  them  in  a  thousand 
petty  ways,  he  had  become  normal  again.  He 
was  no  longer  the  introspective,  morbidly  self- 
conscious  victim  of  adverse  circumstance  that 
Judy  Peters  had  found  him  to  be,  but  a  strong 
man  rejoicing  in  his  strength,  a  Westover  of 
Wanalah  who  shrank  from  no  danger  and 
blanched  in  no  foe's  presence.  He  tramped 
down  the  mountain  through  six  or  seven  hours 
of  darkness  in  eager  quest  of  those  malignities 
from  which  he  had  before  sought  escape  in  a 
refuge  of  solitude.  He  wanted  now  to  hear 
and  combat  the  criticism  from  the  very  thought 
of  which  he  had  before  been  moved  to  flee  in 
something  like  terror. 

It  was  in  this  mood  that  he  encountered  the 
first  news  of  what  had  happened.  It  presented 
itself  in  the  shape  of  one  of  Carley  Farns- 


23o     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

worth's  nominating  placards,  tacked  to  the 
great  hewn  log  posts  of  a  gate  that  spanned 
the  road,  and  Westover,  after  nearly  twenty 
miles  of  tramping,  came  upon  it  about  sunrise. 
He  could  not  imagine  what  to  make  of  it,  and 
after  a  minute's  consideration  he  dismissed  it 
as  somebody's  practical  joke  —  a  part  perhaps 
of  that  "  devil  to  pay  "  in  his  own  neighbor- 
hood of  which  Judy  Peters  had  sent  him 
warning. 

But  as  he  continued  his  journey  he  found 
the  thing  repeated  on  every  gatepost,  on  every 
conspicuous  tree  by  the  roadside,  and  all  over 
the  front  of  a  blacksmith's  shop  which  he  had 
to  pass. 

There  was  nobody  in  the  shop  to  answer 
questions  at  that  early  hour,  but  at  that  point 
the  road  forked,  one  arm  of  it  leading  to  Wa- 
nalah  and  the  other  to  Chinquapin  Knob,  the 
home  of  Carley  Farnsworth.  It  was  only  three 
miles  from  that  point  to  Wanalah,  and  it  was 
full  five  miles  to  Chinquapin  Knob,  but,  weary 
as  his  legs  ought  to  have  been  and  were  not, 
after  his  twenty  odd  miles  of  tramping  over 
rough  roads,  he  turned  his  face  not  toward 


FLAGS    FLYING  231 

Wanalah  but  in  the  opposite  direction,  resolv- 
ing to  take  breakfast  with  Carley  Farnsworth 
at  Chinquapin  Knob.  He  quickened  his  pace 
too,  after  a  glance  at  his  watch. 

"  It's  half-past  six,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  and 
Carley  has  the  barbaric  habit  of  breakfasting  at 
eight.  I  must  do  the  five  miles  in  an  hour  and 
a  half,  if  I  don't  want  a  breakfast  of  leftovers, 
and  this  morning  I  don't." 

As  he  trudged  on  up  a  glutinous  red  clay 
hill  road,  it  began  to  rain  again  in  dismal  fash- 
ion, but  the  fact  did  not  depress  him. 

"  It'll  make  the  clay  road  soapy,"  he  re- 
flected, "  so  I  must  put  a  little  more  vim  into 
my  leg  motions  if  I'm  to  do  the  trick  on  time." 

With  that  he  added  ten  or  a  dozen  steps  per 
minute  to  his  pace  and  thought  no  more  about 
the  matter. 

Boyd  Westover  was  himself  again.  That 
was  all. 

Tree  after  tree,  as  he  passed  on,  confronted 
him  with  a  repetition  of  the  announcement  that 
"  We  the  undersigned,  deeming  it  desirable 
that,"  etc.,  etc.,  "  hereby  nominate  Boyd  West- 
over,  Esq.,  of  Wanalah,  for  election  as  the 


232      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

representative  of  this  Senate  district  in  the 
upper  house  of  the  Legislature,  and  we  appeal 
to  the  pride  and  patriotism  of  our  friends, 
fellow  citizens  and  neighbors,"  and  so  on  to 
the  end  of  the  chapter  of  Carley  Farnsworth's 
free  flowing  rhetoric.  Westover  did  not  pause 
to  look  at  any  of  them.  There  was  no  need. 
He  had  already  learned  what  the  placards  pro- 
claimed, and  he  had  already  observed  the  con- 
spicuous absence  of  Colonel  Conway's  name 
from  the  list  of  those  who  thus  urged  his  elec- 
tion. He  could  no  more  guess  the  meaning  of 
its  absence  than  others  had  been  able  to  do, 
but  he  was  not  surprised  by  the  fact.  In  view 
of  Colonel  Conway's  failure  to  call  upon  him 
during  the  days  of  his  late  stay  at  Wanalah, 
he  would  have  been  astonished  if  that  gentle- 
man's name  had  appeared  on  the  paper.  But 
his  mood  was  not  now  what  it  had  been  before. 
He  was  no  longer  disposed  to  be  submissive 
even  to  Fate,  or  to  reconcile  himself  to  its  un- 
just decrees.  As  he  strode  onward  at  the  pace 
he  had  set  himself  he  reflected : 

"  Of  course  Colonel  Conway  was  under  no 
obligation  to  call  upon  me,  except  the  obliga- 


FLAGS    FLYING  233 

tion  of  old  friendship,  and  that  he  was  free  to 
regard  as  cancelled,  if  he  chose.  And  of 
course  he  was  under  no  obligation  to  sign  that 
nominating  paper,  if  he  did  not  wish.  But  he 
knew  that  his  failure  to  call  upon  me  was  a 
conspicuous  neglect  to  which  others  would  at- 
tach importance,  and  he  knew  that  his  refusal 
to  sign  the  paper  would  be  everywhere  inter- 
preted as  an  accusation  that  must  put  shame 
upon  me.  I  have  a  right  to  demand  a  greater 
explicitness  of  accusation,  and  I  will.  His 
silence  does  me  a  greater  hurt  than  any  other 
man's  utterance  could.  I  have  a  right  to  chal- 
lenge it  on  the  ground  of  its  injustice.  I  have 
a  right  to  insist  that  he  shall  speak,  and  I  will 
make  that  demand  and  enforce  it." 

Obviously  Boyd  Westover  had  recovered  his 
vigor  and  was  again  fit  to  call  himself  by  the 
name  his  forebears  had  borne  for  generations 
past  —  Westover  of  Wanalah  —  a  name  which 
in  that  community  had  always  stood  for  viril- 
ity, courage  and  uncompromising  honor;  a 
name  that  had  meant  secure  peace  to  those  who 
deserved  peace  and  quick  war  to  those  who 
were  hostilely  disposed;  a  name  that  had  al- 


234     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

ways  represented  what  is  best  in  manhood, 
both  in  its  tenderly  forbearing  gentleness  of 
impulse  and  its  relentless  strength  of  purpose. 

As  he  approached  Chinquapin  Knob  the  evi- 
dences of  his  candidacy  rapidly  multiplied. 
The  outer  gate  of  Carley  Farnsworth's  planta- 
tion was  plastered  all  over  with  the  nomination 
placards,  and  as  the  house  came  into  view  Boyd 
saw  a  great  flagstaff  there  carrying  in  the 
breeze  three  long  tailed  streamers  on  which, 
as  he  presently  made  out,  were  inscribed  the 
legends : 

"  For  Senator  —  Boyd  Westover !  " 

"  Vote  for  a  Gentleman !  " 

"  Westover  of  Wanalah!" 

"  I  don't  understand  it,"  Westover  reflected 
as  he  climbed  the  last  hill  and  saw  by  a  glance 
at  his  watch  that  he  was  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
ahead  of  his  scheduled  time,  "  I  don't  under- 
stand it,  but  obviously  I'm  a  candidate  for 
Senator  and  with  equal  obviousness  I'm  in 
for  a  fight  if  I  am  to  win.  So  much  the  better. 
I  don't  care  a  fig  about  the  Senatorship,  but 
Fll  enjoy  the  fight.  I'm  in  the  mood  for  it. 
And  besides  I  like  to  win  the  game,  whatever 


FLAGS    FLYING  235 

the  stake  may  be.  I'll  fight  for  this  election 
as  I  never  fought  for  anything  before  in  my 
life.  I  wonder  who  the  other  fellow  is,  anyhow 
—  my  opponent  ?  " 

Clearly  his  twenty-five  mile  walk,  made  be- 
tween midnight  and  breakfast  time,  had  not 
robbed  Boyd  Westover  of  any  of  the  vigor  of 
mind  and  temper  that  were  his  by  inheritance 
and  that  the  mountains  had  given  back  to  him. 

"  I'm  almost  famished,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  It  suddenly  occurs  to  me  that  I  was  out  after 
a  catamount  last  night  and  forgot  all  about  my 
supper.  I  wonder  if  Carley  has  a  roe  herring 
for  my  breakfast.  Anyhow  he'll  have  a  lot  of 
other  good  things." 

As  he  finished  his  wondering  he  entered  the 
house  grounds  at  Chinquapin  Knob,  and  Carley 
Farnsworth,  who  was  smoking  his  before- 
breakfast  pipe  in  the  porch,  caught  sight  of 
him. 

Their  greetings  and  questions  were  like  shots 
from  a  rapid  fire  gun,  an  implement  of  slaugh- 
ter which  had  not  then  been  invented  by  the 
devilish  ingenuity  of  greed  in  the  service  of 
murder. 


236      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

Out  of  the  cross  fire  Carley  Farnsworth 
managed  to  extract  the  information  that  his 
friend  had  been  tramping  since  midnight  with 
a  stomach  empty  since  noon  of  the  preceding 
day. 

"  Good !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Excellent ! 
You're  altogether  fit.  You're  in  shape  or  you 
never  could  have  done  that.  But  I  won't  an- 
swer any  question  you  can  conceivably  ask  "  — 
for  Boyd  had  already  begun  a  clamorous  cate- 
chism as  to  what  it  all  meant  —  "  until  we've 
had  breakfast  and  a  pipe.  Enos !  "  addressing 
a  negro  boy,  "  go  to  the  kitchen  and  tell  Elsie 
there'll  be  a  lot  of  trouble  at  Chinquapin  Knob 
if  breakfast  isn't  on  the  table  in  five  minutes, 
—  do  you  hear?  " 

"  Now  tell  me,  Carley,  what  all  this  means," 
pleaded  Westover. 

"  I'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind  until  after 
breakfast,"  answered  the  other.  "  I'm  a  doc- 
tor you  know,  and  I  have  the  honor  to  be  the 
family  physician  at  Wanalah.  By  the  way, 
Boyd,  you've  got  three  cases  of  typhoid  in  your 
lower  quarters,  and  as  I  suspected  the  well 
I've  ordered  it  filled  up,  and  the  negroes  down 


FLAGS    FLYING  237 

there  are  carrying  their  water  half  a  mile  or 
so.  That  isn't  what  I  wanted  to  talk  about. 
As  your  family  physician  I  have  your  health 
in  charge.  You're  in  superb  condition  now, 
and  it's  my  business  to  keep  you  so.  You've 
made  a  long  tramp  on  an  empty  stomach  —  a 
very  unwise  thing  to  do,  but  as  a  doctor  I'm 
used  to  that  sort  of  thing.  There  wouldn't 
be  any  serious  work  for  us  doctors  to  do,  if 
people  generally  were  wise.  But  you've  made 
a  tremendous  draft  upon  your  bank  account 
of  vigor,  and  it  is  time  for  you  to  make  a  de- 
posit to  keep  the  account  good.  You  need 
breakfast,  before  you  burden  your  mind  even 
with  anything  I  have  to  say.  And  by  the  way, 
Johnny  is  bringing  in  the  breakfast  two  whole 
minutes  before  the  time.  There's  the  loaf  of 
hot  light  bread,  and  the  roe  herrings  and  the 
biscuits  and  the  batter  bread.  There's  a  cold 
ham  on  the  dresser  and  the  batter  cakes  or 
waffles  or  something  of  that  kind  will  come  in 
later.  Kizzy,  my  housekeeper,  is  making  the 
coffee;  she  always  does  that  the  last  thing  in 
order  that  it  may  be  fresh.  She  frequently 
utters  the  dictum,  *  Coffee  ain't  no  good  ef 


238      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

you  don't  drink  it  while  the  aromatics  is  in  it.' 
I  don't  know  where  she  got  that  word,  but 
there  is  always  a  supply  of  delicious  '  aroma- 
tics  '  in  Kizzy's  coffee.  Come.  Here's  a  cold 
jowl  if  you  care  for  it,  and  there's  sausage 
before  you,  and  liver  and  chidlings  —  you  see 
I  killed  half  my  hogs  the  other  day.  Eat  your 
breakfast  and  make  it  a  good  one.  If  you 
don't  I'll  refuse  to  tell  you  any  of  the  interest- 
ing things  you're  so  anxious  to  hear  about." 


XXII 

AN    UNMISTAKABLE    CURE 

WHEN  the  breakfast  was  over  and, 
with  long-stemmed  pipes  alight,  the 
two  friends  foregathered  in  front  of 
a  blazing  fire  —  for  the  drizzling  autumn  day 
was    chill  —  Westover    again    demanded    to 
know  "  what  all  this  thing  means." 

"  You  must  have  seen  some  of  the  plac- 
ards?" 

"Some  of  them?  It  seems  to  me  that  all 
the  woods  have  been  papered  with  them.  But 
what  does  it  mean?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  obvious  enough.    It  means  that 
a  goodly  number  of  your  neighbors  and  friends 
have  nominated  you  for  Senator,  moved  thereto 
by  a  conviction  that  the  intelligence  and  char- 
acter of  the  district  deserve  a  better  represent- 
ative than  William  Wilberforce  Webb." 
Farnsworth  was  careful  not  to  suggest  Judy 
239 


24o     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

Peters's  initiative  or  interest  in  the  matter. 
That  was  a  secret  between  him  and  her. 

The  mention  of  Webb's  name  as  that  of  his 
opponent,  started  Westover  out  of  his  chair, 
and  as  he  stood  upon  the  hearth  he  said,  in 
tones  that  were  kept  in  subjection  by  sheer 
force  of  a  resolute  will : 

"  Oh,  then  it  is  Webb  I'm  running  against. 
That  puts  a  new  face  on  the  affair.  I  like  that. 
Against  him  I'll  make  a  whirlwind  campaign. 
But  how  on  earth  did  that  fellow  manage  to 
secure  a  nomination  by  so  respectable  a  party 
as  the  Whigs?" 

"  Chiefly  by  general  neglect.  He  worked  for 
the  nomination  and  all  the  rest  of  us  Jet  it  go 
to  him  by  default.  That's  the  substance  of  the 
story." 

"  Well,"  answered  Westover,  "  the  news  that 
he  is  my  opponent  gives  me  a  new  and  eager 
interest  in  the  campaign.  We'll  get  up  squir- 
rel stews  and  barbecues,  late  as  the  season 
is,  and  militia  musters  and  every  other  kind  of 
thing  that  draws  men  together,  and  I'll  make 
my  little,  red  hot  speech  at  all  of  them.  Is 
there  anything  in  sight  ?  " 


AN    UNMISTAKABLE    CURE     241 

"  Nothing  available,  so  far  as  your  presence 
is  concerned.  This  is  Court  day,  of  course, 
and  I'm  going  to  make  a  speech  - 

"  So  am  I,"  interjected  Westover. 

"But  how  can  you?  You've  tramped  all 
night  and  I've  ordered  a  bath  and  a  bed  for 
you." 

"  Thank  you  sincerely.  I'll  enjoy  the  bath 
and  the  bed  some  other  time.  To-day  I'm  go- 
ing to  the  Court  House  with  you.  I'll  ride 
one  of  your  plugs,  if  you  don't  mind,  and  may 
be  you'll  send  a  boy  over  to  Wanalah  with  a 
note  to  my  overseer.  I  want  him  to  send  a 
horse  to  the  Court  House  to  meet  me  —  a  real 
horse  that  I'll  have  a  fight  with  every  time  I 
come  to  a  gate." 

Carley  Farnsworth  did  not  answer  immedi- 
ately. Instead  he  walked  into  the  dining  room 
under  pretence  of  refilling  his  pipe  —  really  for 
the  sake  of  a  good  chuckle  over  his  friend's 
condition. 

"  He's  as  fit  as  a  fiddle,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  He's  full  of  vigor  and  full  of  fight.  He's 
Westover  of  Wanalah  again,  and  that's  what 
I've  been  working  for.  That  mountain  air, 


242     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

and  the  hunting  and  fishing  and  rough  tramp- 
ing have  done  more  for  him  than  all  the  calo- 
mel, quinine  and  strychnine  I've  got  in  my 
saddle  bags  could  do.  It's  great!  And  we'll 
crown  the  cure  —  Judy  and  I  —  by  making 
him  Senator.  Really  Judy  is  a  great  diagnos- 
tician in  her  way.  It  was  she  who  found  out 
what  was  the  matter  with  Boyd  and  prescribed 
the  remedy.  I  used  to  think  she  had  only  one 
medicine,  that  apple  jack  was  her  panacea.  I 
know  better  now." 

Then,  with  his  pipe  refilled,  he  returned  to 
the  parlor  only  to  find  it  empty.  Going  to  the 
porch  he  saw  Westover  astride  a  three-year- 
old  filly  that  had  been  turned  loose  to  graze  in 
the  house  grounds.  Without  saddle  or  bridle 
the  young  man  was  gaily  cavorting  on  the 
spirited  mare's  back  and  rapidly  reconciling  her 
to  control  of  his  will. 

"  Well,  certainly  he's  fit,"  muttered  the  little 
doctor.  "  There  aren't  many  men  in  Virginia 
who  would  prefer  that  sort  of  thing  to  a  com- 
fortable bed  after  an  all  night's  tramp  down  a 
mountain  side,  over  the  roughest  roads  that 
adverse  natural  conditions,  supplemented  by  the 


AN    UNMISTAKABLE    CURE     243 

evil  ingenuity  of  road  supervisors,  ever  man- 
aged to  create.  Houp  la!  I'll  dismiss  him  as 
cured.  But  we'll  go  on  and  elect  him." 

Then,  as  the  negro  boy  for  whom  he  had 
sent  appeared,  Farnsworth  called  out : 

"  I  say,  Boyd,  I've  a  boy  waiting  for  you 
here.  Come  and  give  him  instructions." 

And  when  Westover  reached  the  steps,  his 
host  added : 

"  Sam  may  as  well  bring  your  horse  to  the 
Court  House  himself.  It  is  hardly  at  all  out 
of  his  way  in  coming  back.  So  give  him  your 
instructions." 

"  Very  well.  Go  to  my  overseer,  Sam,  and 
tell  him  to  send  Rob  Roy  to  me  by  you.  And 
mind  you,  you  are  to  lead  him.  If  you  try 
to  ride  him  he'll  pitch  you  head  first  into  the 
deepest  mud  puddle  he  can  find,  and  then  he'll 
go  galloping  home  again.  Tell  the  overseer 
to  put  the  double-bitted  snaffle  and  curb  bridle 
on  him  and  the  lightest  flat  saddle  in  the  sta- 
bles. And  mind,  Sam,  keep  the  stirrups 
crossed  over  the  saddle.  If  you  don't,  Rob 
Roy  will  mount  himself  and  ride  away  heaven 
knows  where." 


244     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  Yes,  sir/'  answered  Sam.  "  I  hear,  an' 
I'll  be  keerful.  I  prides  myself  on  ridin'  any- 
thing they  is  short'n  a  hurricane,  but  Fs  con- 
tumaciously opposed  to  gittin'  on  the  back  o' 
that  there  Rob  Roy  o'  yourn.  He's  wuss'n  a 
hurricane  an'  a'  earthquake  an'  a  'clipse  o'  de 
moon  all  put  togedder.  Dat's  my  jedgment 
o'  his  pussonal  character  generally.  He's  wuss 
now,  o'  course." 

"Why,  Sam?" 

1  'Cause  he's  done  been  stabled  up  fer  free 
or  four  months,  now,  'thout  no  exercise  'ceptin' 
bein'  led  to  de  branch  fer  water." 

"  Do  you  know  that,  Sam  ?  Have  they  kept 
that  horse  —  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  knows  it.  Yo'  see  dey  ain't 
nobody  on  Wanalah  plantation  da*  dares  git 
on  dat  dar  hoss's  back,  an'  'taint  much  fun  to 
exercise  a  hoss  by  leadin'  of  him.  'Sides 
dat  —  " 

Sam  faltered,  and  his  master  interposed: 

"  Go  on  —  'sides  what." 

"  Well,  'taint  nothin',  sir." 

"  All  right.  I  like  to  hear  about  nothings. 
Who  is  she,  Sam?" 


AN    UNMISTAKABLE    CURE     245 

"Who's  who,  Mastah?" 

"  Why,  the  girl  you've  been  courting  over 
at  Wanalah?  Of  course  I  know  you've  been 
stealing  a  mule  out  of  the  stables  and  riding 
over  there  every  night  for  a  month  without 
asking  my  permission.  But  I  don't  know  who 
the  girl  is  or  whether  she's  worthy  of  you, 
Sam." 

"  'Fore  de  Lawd,  Mastah,  I  ain't  —  " 

"  Don't  forswear  yourself,  Sam.  I  know 
all  about  it.  I  visit  my  stables  every  night, 
and  I've  missed  you  and  the  mule.  I  don't 
mind,  only,  if  you  had  asked  me,  I'd  have  let 
you  have  a  better  mule  and  a  saddle.  Never 
mind  that  now.  Take  the  mare  Medora,  and 
get  away  from  here.  Bring  your  Mas'  Boyd's 
horse  to  the  Court  House,  and  mind  you,  don't 
stop  at  Wanalah  to  sweetheart  with  Patty 
Jane  —  for  you  see  after  all  I  know  all  about 
this  thing." 

"  And  Sam,  tell  my  body  servant  to  send 
me  some  clothes  by  you,"  added  Westover. 

When  the  boy  had  gone,  in  some  confusion 
over  what  seemed  to  him  his  master's  super- 
natural knowledge  of  things  he  had  carefully 


246      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

guarded    against    discovery,    Farnsworth   ex- 
plained to  his  companion : 

"  I  always  take  pains  to  know  what  goes 
on  on  the  plantation,  and  I  never  mention  it 
except  in  sensational  ways,  calculated  to  im- 
press the  African  mind  with  the  conviction 
that  as  a  doctor  I  am  possessed  of  strange, 
occult  powers  of  discovery  against  which  it  is 
useless  to  practise  the  ordinary  arts  of  con- 
cealment. It's  a  handy  way  to  keep  things 
in  order  on  a  plantation,  the  master  of  which 
has  to  attend  to  a  medical  practice.  Now  we 
must  be  off.  Here  are  our  horses.  I've  as- 
signed to  your  use  the  maddest  piece  of  horse- 
flesh I  possess.  It's  a  mare  that  broke  my 
overseer's  arm  a  year  ago,  and  when  harnessed 
to  a  vehicle  for  purposes  of  subjugation  and 
discipline  kicked  the  vehicle  into  kindling 
wood  and  scrap  iron  and  then  kept  on  kick- 
ing till  there  was  nothing  left  on  her  but  a 
collar.  She'd  have  kicked  that  off  too,  I 
reckon,  if  it  had  been  behind  her  shoulders. 
She  has  been  a  good  deal  tamed  since  then, 
but  she  still  has  spirit  enough  to  satisfy  any 
reasonable  rider.  You,  of  course,  are  unrea- 


AN    UNMISTAKABLE    CURE     247 

sonable.  What's  your  fancy  anyhow,  Boyd, 
for  riding  cataclysms  and  cyclones  instead  of 
serious-minded  animals  that  know  their  busi- 
ness and  do  it  docilely?  " 

"  Oh  I  don't  know.  I  like  struggle,  con- 
test, and  all  that.  I  like  to  match  my  wits 
against  brute  strength.  I  like  —  well  I  sup- 
pose I  like  a  fight." 

As  he  spoke  the  two  mounted. 

"  There's  no  trace  of  neurasthenia  in  him, 
anyhow,"  thought  Farnsworth.  Aloud  he 
said: 

"  All  that  is  very  fortunate,  for  just  now 
you've  got  all  the  fight  ahead  of  you  that  any 
reasonable  person  of  fighting  temperament 
could  desire." 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,  Carley.  I've  been 
trying  to  worm  the  facts  out  of  you  ever  since 
I  got  to  Chinquapin  Knob." 

"  Oh,  the  thing's  simple  enough.  You  see 
Webb  hates  you  of  course,  and  he's  afraid  of 
you.  When  he  secured  the  regular  nomina- 
tion he  thought  he  had  his  fox  by  the  tail. 
There  was  only  the  Democratic  candidate, 
Sam  Butler,  opposing  him,  and  of  course  in 


248      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

so  strong  a  Whig  district  as  this  is,  that  can- 
didacy didn't  count.  But  when  we  nominated 
you  as  an  independent  Whig,  things  began  to 
cloud  up  in  Webb's  sky.  He  got  ugly,  but  — 
well,  he  was  made  to  understand  that  there 
were  limits  to  what  it  would  be  safe  to  say 
about  you." 

"  I  understand,  Carley,"  said  Boyd,  grasp- 
ing his  hand  warmly ;  "  I  understand,  and  I 
thank  you  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  for  a 
friendship  that  has  no  bottom  so  far  as  plum- 
met line  can  discover.  But  all  that's  my  job 
now.  Go  on,  I  want  to  hear." 

"  Well,  he  hasn't  dared  say  a  thing  in  any 
open  fashion,  but  there  are  a  lot  of  his  fol- 
lowers whom  no  gentleman  can  afford  to 
honor  by  slapping  their  jaws  or  kicking  them 
off  the  steps  of  a  barroom,  and  through  them 
Webb  has  managed  to  circulate  insinuations." 

"  Of  what  sort  ?  "  asked  Westover  quickly. 

"  It  isn't  easy  to  pin  them  down  to  a  defi- 
nition. They  have  mainly  taken  the  form  of 
questions.  *  Where  is  Boyd  Westover,  any- 
how? Why  doesn't  he  present  himself  to  the 
people  he  asks  to  vote  for  him?  What's  he 


AN    UNMISTAKABLE    CURE     249 

afraid  of?  Why  didn't  his  oldest  and  best 
friend  Colonel  Conway  sign  the  paper  nom- 
inating him?  Does  Colonel  Conway  doubt 
his  innocence  after  all  ?  Isn't  he  satisfied  with 
the  other  fellow's  confession?  Or  does  he 
think  the  confession  of  a  lunatic  insufficient?  ' 
These  are  some  of  the  questions  set  afloat, 
nobody  knows  how  or  by  whom." 

"What  are  the  others?"  demanded  West- 
over  with  set  teeth  and  a  jaw  that  seemed  to 
have  added  to  its  massiveness  by  reason  of  the 
determination  of  the  mind  behind  it.  "  Go 
on.  Tell  me  the  whole  story.  I  want  to  know 
just  what  I  have  got  to  fight." 

"  That's  right,  and  I'll  be  with  you  in  the 
fight.  We'll  run  these  questions  down  till  we 
make  it  unsafe  to  ask  them.  I've  already 
made  a  good  many  people  quit  asking  them 
by  notifying  them  that  I  should  treat  any 
repetition  of  the  questions  as  an  assertion  for 
which  the  questioner  could  be  and  should  be 
and  would  be  held  responsible ;  confound  that 
grammar  rule  about  can  and  will  and  could 
and  should  and  would,  I  never  could  remem- 
ber it,  but  I've  given  notice  to  all  and  singular 


250     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

that  I  recognize  no  distinction  between  insin- 
uation and  assertion  in  such  a  case  as  this,  and 
that  —  oh,  well,  you  know  what  a  notice  of 
that  kind  suggests." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,  and  I  thank  you.  But 
you're  evading  my  question,  Carley.  What 
is  the  other  insinuation?  I  quite  understand 
that  you  shrink  from  mentioning  it,  but  you 
must.  I  have  a  right  to  demand  that  much 
from  a  friendship  so  loyal  as  yours  has  proved 
itself  to  be.  Go  on.  Tell  me  the  worst." 

"  I  will.  But  the  thing  has  been  so  sub- 
tilely  put  forth  that  I've  found  it  impossible 
even  to  find  anybody  who  has  asked  the  ques- 
tion. Indeed  everybody  who  has  helped  to 
circulate  the  slander  has  done  so  not  by  ask- 
ing if  there  was  truth  in  it  but  by  declaring 
his  utter  disbelief  in  it.  I  never  knew  any- 
thing so  cleverly  managed  in  my  life,  or  any- 
thing so  malignant." 

"  You  haven't  yet  told  me  what  the  scandal 
was,"  said  Boyd,  with  lips  so  tightly  com- 
pressed that  the  purple  had  all  gone  out  of 
them. 

"  In  substance  it  amounted  to  this,  that  you 


AN    UNMISTAKABLE    CURE     251 

had  in  some  way  treated  Colonel  Conway's 
daughter  with  unchivalrous  disrespect  —  that 
you  had  put  some  unforgivable  slight  upon 
her  —  nobody  suggests  what.  In  fact  the 
thing  is  so  vague  and  shadowy  and  unsub- 
stantial that  it  is  difficult  even  to  define  it. 
But  Colonel  Conway's  refusal  to  join  with  us 
in  nominating  you  has  lent  a  sort  of  color  to 
it,  and  this  thing,  utterly  unsubstantial  as  it 
is,  has  done  more  than  all  else  to  embarrass 
our  campaign.  In  your  absence  it  has  been 
impossible  to  meet  it  and  throttle  it,  for  no- 
body but  you  could  have  a  shadow  of  author- 
ity to  question  Colonel  Conway  on  such  a 
subject." 

"  I  understand,"  answered  Boyd;  "  I'll  deal 
with  that  matter  in  a  way  that  will  satisfy 
myself  at  any  rate,  and  possibly  my  friends 
also.  Thank  you  for  all.  I  know  the  situa- 
tion now,  and  knowing  it,  I  think  I  know  how 
to  meet  it." 

As  he  said  this  the  pair  were  entering  the 
Court  House  village,  and  their  road  took 
them  within  a  few  feet  of  the  house  and  law 
office  of  Sam  Butler,  the  Democratic  candi- 


252      WESTOVER  OF  W  ANAL  AH 

date  for  Senator.  As  they  passed,  Butler 
stepped  out  into  the  porch  accompanied  by 
Edgar  Coffey,  and  engaged  in  the  earnest  end 
of  a  conversation.  They  could  not  avoid 
hearing  Coffey  say: 

"  Well,  that's  what  Judy  tole  me  to  tell  you, 
an'  ef  you  do  as  she  says,  she'll  take  keer  o' 
the  rest." 

Neither  Westover  nor  Farnsworth  said  a 
word  until  they  had  passed  well  beyond  hear- 
ing. Then  Westover  exclaimed : 

"  I  wonder  what  on  earth  that  means ! 
Surely  Judy  Peters  isn't  going  to  throw  the 
mountain  vote  for  him." 

"  Very  certainly  not,"  answered  Farnsworth, 
but  he  said  nothing  of  his  visit  to  the  Queen 
of  the  Mountains  or  of  her  initiative  in  Boyd 
Westover's  nomination. 

"  No,"  answered  Westover,  recalling  Judy's 
last  message  to  himself,  "  that  isn't  even  one 
of  the  possibilities."  But  he  did  not  explain 
the  grounds  of  his  confidence. 

After  a  little,  as  the  two  rode  into  the  stable 
yard  of  the  hotel  to  put  up  their  horses,  West- 
over  said : 


AN    UNMISTAKABLE    CURE     253 

"  Nevertheless  I'd  give  something  handsome 
to  know  what  that  meant." 

"  So  would  I,"  answered  Farnsworth. 

They  were  destined  to  find  out,  before  the 
campaign  ended,  but  not  yet. 


XXIII 

COURT    DAY 

COURT  Day  in  old  Virginia  was  an  in- 
stitution. It  happened  once  a  month 
and  it  served  all  the  purposes  of  club, 
exchange,  political  assemblage,  muster,  and 
social  meeting  time.  Pretty  nearly  the  whole 
adult  male  population  of  the  county  was  sure  to 
be  present  at  the  county  seat  on  that  day,  so 
that  the  Virginian  who  wanted  to  see  anybody, 
whether  to  collect  a  note  or  give  one,  to  make 
a  contract  or  to  cancel  one,  to  arrange  a  re- 
ligious meeting  or  a  barbecue,  to  trade  horses 
or  to  exchange  views  concerning  the  latest 
philosophy,  to  make  speeches  or  to  listen  to 
them,  was  sure  to  find  present  the  people  who 
were  in  any  way  related  to  the  matter  he  had 
in  hand.  Those  leisurely  folk  never  thought 
of  bothering  themselves  to  visit  anybody  on 
254 


COURT    DAY  255 

business.  Whatever  the  business  was,  it  could 
wait  until  Court  Day,  and  it  did. 

Sometimes  there  was  political  speaking  or 
the  like  on  Court  Day,  but  not  always.  The 
orators  had  need  of  an  audience,  and  if  there 
was  anything  of  interest  going  on  in  Court, 
everybody  was  sure  to  be  there  and  the  orators 
had  nobody  to  address. 

It  was  so  on  this  occasion.  It  was  a  quar- 
terly Court  —  a  grand  jury  term  of  the  County 
Court  —  and  there  was  a  murder  trial  of  sen- 
sational character  in  progress.  As  a  result 
everybody  who  could  find  a  square  foot  of 
space  within  the  Court  room,  in  which  to 
bestow  his  person,  sought  place  there  the 
moment  the  Court  opened,  and  held  it  tena- 
ciously throughout  the  session.  The  struggle 
for  place  was  all  the  greater  because  Jack 
Towns,  just  returned  from  his  Rocky  Moun- 
tain trip,  was  present  as  attorney  and  coun- 
sellor for  the  accused  man,  and  Jack  Towns's 
eloquence  was  something  that  everybody 
wanted  to  hear.  Besides  that,  his  skill  in  con- 
fusing a  witness  and  reducing  him  to  pulp  was 
something  that  nobody  wanted  to  miss.  Jack 


256     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

was  a  lawyer  whose  equipment  lacked  little  of 
perfection.  His  learning  was  adequate,  his 
sagacity  almost  preternatural,  and  when  he 
had  a  case  to  conduct  the  Commonwealth's  At- 
torney was  in  a  tremor  of  blue  funk  from  the 
beginning,  the  Judge  was  alertly  mindful  lest 
his  judgment  should  be  unduly  swayed  by  per- 
suasive eloquence,  and  the  populace  was  in  the 
humor  that  possesses  an  audience  when  a  great 
star  and  a  great  company  are  to  present  a  great 
drama  or  tragedy  or  comedy  as  the  case  may 
be. 

Jack  was  too  deeply  engaged  with  "  the 
work  of  saving  a  human  life,"  as  he  said,  to 
talk  for  more  than  half  a  minute  with  West- 
over,  when  the  two  met  at  the  stables  of  the 
inn. 

"  I'm  going  to  Wanalah  for  the  night,"  he 
said.  "  Then  and  there  we  can  talk.  At  pres- 
ent I  have  only  time  to  tell  you  that  you  are, 
three  times  over,  the  richest  man  in  Virginia 
and  that  your  wealth  includes  a  practically 
limitless  supply  of  ready  money.  I  haven't 
time  now  to  tell  you  more,  but  I  tell  you  this 
in  the  interest  of  your  campaign.  Give  all  the 


COURT    DAY  257 

jamborees  you  think  of;  let  the  money  flow 
like  water,  and  I'll  take  care  of  the  results." 

"  But,  Jack,  I'm  not  buying  my  election, 
and  —  " 

"  Of  course  not.  I  understand  all  that.  I 
only  want  you  to  know  that  for  legitimate  ex- 
pense your  bank  account  is  ample.  Now  I 
must  go.  I've  a  human  life  in  my  hands.  I'll 
be  with  you  at  Wanalah  to-night.  Go  home 
when  you  get  ready.  I'll  be  there  when  I  can. 
So  long."  1 

In  Virginia  in  those  old,  sunny  days,  hospi- 
tality was  taken  for  granted  in  that  confident 
fashion,  and  the  welcome  always  justified  the 
assumption. 

But  before  the  court  was  opened,  and  during 
its  noon  recess,  which  was  shortened  to  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour  because  of  the  importance 
of  the  case  at  bar,  Boyd  Westover  found  it 
difficult  to  move  about,  because  of  the  besetting 

1The  expression  "so  long,"  as  here  used,  is  not  an 
anachronism.  It  was  in  use  in  Virginia,  and  in  well 
nigh  universal  use  in  South  Carolina  before  the  war. 
Its  adoption  at  the  North  came  much  later,  I  believe. 
Mr.  James  Russell  Lowell  once  suggested  to  me  that 
it  might  be  a  corruption  of  "  salaam."  —  AUTHOR. 


258     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

eagerness  of  his  friends  to  greet  him.  In  an- 
swer to  questions  he  frequently  repeated  a  little 
impromptu  speech. 

"  I  was  in  utter  ignorance  of  my  nomination 
until  I  saw  placards  this  morning.  I  haven't 
even  yet  found  out  what  it  means,  and  I  really 
care  nothing  for  the  place.  I'd  far  rather  stay 
at  Wanalah  and  look  after  my  affairs.  But  as 
my  friends  have  nominated  me  I'm  a  candidate 
and  I  shall  stay  in  the  race  till  the  polls  close 
on  election  day.  I  learn  that  some  persons  — 
I  don't  know  who  —  have  been  suggesting 
things  to  my  detriment.  I  am  here  to  ask 
about  that,  to  challenge  every  insinuation 
against  my  character  and  every  criticism  of  my 
conduct.  I  stand  ready  to  answer.  I  ask  only 
that  those  who  seek  to  injure  me  shall  come 
out  into  the  open,  make  themselves  known  and 
put  their  accusations  into  definite  form  so  that 
they  may  be  met  and  either  refuted  or  estab- 
lished. I  don't  relish  attacks  in  the  dark  or 
from  behind  masks,  and  I  am  going  to  make 
known  my  opinion  of  the  sneaks  and  cowards 
who  make  such  attacks.  I'm  going  to  attend 
every  gathering  of  my  fellow  citizens  between 


COURT    DAY  259 

now  and  election  day,  and  at  every  one  of  them 
I'm  going  to  challenge  any  and  every  body  as 
I  do  now,  who  has  aught  to  say  against  my 
character  or  my  conduct  to  say  it  openly  like  a 
man.  If  any  one  does  that,  I  shall  reply  in 
such  fashion  as  I  think  appropriate  in  each 
case.  I  stand  before  the  community  as  West- 
over  of  Wanalah,  a  man  conscious  of  his  own 
rectitude  and  prepared  to  vindicate  the  honor 
of  the  name  he  bears  at  all  times,  against  all 
comers  and  at  all  hazards.  That  is  all  I  have 
to  say,  and  it  ought  to  be  enough  to  satisfy 
honorable  men  and  to  silence  sneaks  and  slan- 
derers/' 

So  far  as  the  men  of  honest  mind  who  were 
gathered  together  that  day  were  concerned,  this 
challenge  seemed  abundantly  satisfying.  Many 
who  had  entertained  doubts  because  of  the  can- 
didate's absence,  abandoned  their  doubts  and 
frankly  declared  their  purpose  to  support 
Westover  at  the  election.  As  for  Webb  and 
his  friends,  they  found  themselves  sorely  em- 
barrassed. Their  opportunity  had  lain  in 
Westover's  unexplained  absence.  His  appear- 
ance now,  and  his  frank  and  manly  challenge, 


2<5o      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

robbed  them  of  their  weapons  and  their  ammu- 
nition. They  dared  not  say  aught  that  might 
be  construed  into  an  accusation,  and  if  any  of 
them  insinuated  aught  to  Westover's  discredit 
he  was  sure  of  a  peremptory  challenge  to  say 
just  what  he  meant. 

It  was  obvious  to  Webb  and  his  supporters 
that  something  must  be  done  to  meet  and  neu- 
tralize the  effect  of  Boyd  Westover's  presence 
and  defiance.  They  still  had  "  regularity " 
behind  them.  Webb  was  the  regularly  nomi- 
nated candidate  of  the  Whig  party,  strongly 
dominant  in  that  region,  and  presumably  he 
would  receive  the  regular  party  vote.  Then, 
too,  as  he  explained  to  his  partisans,  most  of 
the  Democrats,  who  would  of  course  support 
their  own  party  candidate,  were  men  friendly 
to  Westover,  whose  votes  were  so  many  sub- 
tracted from  the  support  that  would  otherwise 
be  his. 

"  I  regard  Sam  Butler's  candidacy  as  a  thing 
altogether  in  my  interest,"  he  said  confidently, 
"  and  then,"  he  jubilantly  added,  "  I  have  sat- 
isfactory assurance  that  the  whole  mountain 
vote  will  be  mine,  and  so  I  regard  my  election 


COURT    DAY  261 

as  a  foregone  conclusion,  a  triumphant  assur- 
ance of  a  future  that  holds  human  affairs  se- 
curely within  its  grasp." 

That  was  a  phrase  dear  to  Webb's  soul. 
He  had  spent  half  a  night  in  concocting  it 
and  committing  it  to  memory.  "  You 
know  I've  been  up  in  the  mountains,  and  I've 
been  royally  entertained  by  Her  Majesty  the 
Queen." 

"  Has  she  definitely  promised  you  the  moun- 
tain vote  ?  "  asked  one  who  had  a  passion  for 
exactitude. 

"  Practically,  yes.  You  know  Judy  Peters 
talks  in  parables  and  never  commits  herself; 
but  a  wink  is  as  good  as  a  nod  to  a  blind  horse, 
and  her  parting  words  to  me  left  nothing  of 
assurance  to  be  desired.  Now  what  I  want 
to  say  is  this:  My  election  is  secure,  but  I 
want  my  constituency  to  include  as  large  a  pro- 
portion of  the  planters,  men  of  my  own  class, 
as  possible,  and  so  I  have  accepted  Sam  But- 
ler's challenge  to  meet  him  and  divide  time 
at  the  Barbecue  he's  going  to  give  over  at 
Fighting  Creek,  the  day  after  to-morrow.  I 
suppose  Westover  will  be  there  by  Sam's  invi- 


262      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

tation,  and  between  Sam  and  me  he  won't  be 
left  a  leg  to  stand  on/' 

"  Well,  may  be  so,"  muttered  Foggy,  whose 
experience  in  politics  had  bred  chronic  scepti- 
cism in  his  mind ;  "  but  Boyd  Westover  has 
been  talkin'  right  out  in  meetin'  to-day,  an' 
besides  —  " 

"What  is  it,  Foggy?" 

"  Well,  Jack  Towns  is  here,  you  know,  an' 
if  he  happens  to  make  a  speech  over  there  he'll 
tangle  you  up  like  a  'fish-line  after  you've 
caught  an  eel  on  it." 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  him,"  answered  Webb, 
confidently. 

"  So  much  the  worse,"  muttered  Foggy. 
"  Maybe  he  wouldn't  do  you  up  so  badly  if 
you  were  properly  afraid  of  him.  However, 
we  must  take  things  as  we  find  'em,  and  candi- 
dates likewise,  and  I'll  be  over  at  Fighting 
Creek  with  a  lot  o'  fellows  to  shout  for  you, 
Webb." 

When  Court  opened  and  everybody  made  a 
rush  for  places  in  the  court  house,  Boyd  strolled 
over  to  the  inn  whose  proprietor  insisted  upon 
calling  it  a  hotel,  and,  going  to  the  room  he 


COURT    DAY  263 

had  taken  there  for  the  day,  threw  himself 
upon  the  bed  for  a  sleep  of  two  or  three  hours. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  he  arose  refreshed, 
took  a  cold  sponge  bath,  and  proceeded  to 
change  his  rough  mountain  costume  for  the 
more  conventional  garments  his  body  servant 
had  sent  him  from  Wanalah.  After  the  fash- 
ion of  the  time  and  country,  these  consisted  of 
a  "  pleated  bosom  "  shirt,  a  damask  silk  vest, 
a  long  tailed  broadcloth  coat,  a  pair  of  "  doe- 
skin "  trousers,  white  socks  with  silken  clocks, 
and  a  pair  of  "  low  quarter  "  shoes  with  broad 
silken  ties.  It  was  certain  that  before  mount- 
ing his  horse  again  for  the  journey  to  Wa- 
nalah, Boyd  Westover  would  shed  the  shoes 
at  any  rate  and  don  his  high-topped  boots  in- 
stead, but  for  the  present  he  felt  a  social  obli- 
gation upon  him  to  dress  conventionally;  for 
he  had  found  at  the  hotel  a  note  from  Major 
Magister,  the  leader  of  the  bar,  saying : 

"  Of  course  you'll  dine  with  me  at  four 
o'clock,  Westover.  The  Judge  will  be  present, 
and  I  hope  Jack  Towns  and  the  Common- 
wealth's Attorney  also,  prepared  to  reconcile 
the  differences  created  by  this  trial,  and  become 


264      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

friends  again.  But  none  of  these  is  what  I 
mean  when  I  say  '  of  course  '  you'll  dine  with 
me.  The  *  of  course  '  takes  the  much  more 
pleasing  form  of  a  charming  young  gentle- 
woman from  Boston,  —  Miss  Millicent  Dan- 
vers,  —  to  whom  we  all  want  to  show  every 
possible  attention,  and  especially  to  introduce 
you  as  a  typical  young  gentleman  of  Virginia. 
She  is  with  us  only  for  the  day.  So  don't  send 
any  excuses,  but  come  in  your  own  proper  per- 
son." 

Remembering  that  Boyd  Westover  was  a 
gallant,  hot-blooded  young  Virginian,  and  that 
it  had  been  many  moons  since  he  had  enjoyed 
association  with  young  women  of  his  class  and 
caste,  it  is  easy  to  understand  the  eagerness 
with  which  he  welcomed  this  opportunity  to 
"  get  himself  civilized  again,"  as  he  framed 
the  thought  in  his  mind. 

"  From  Boston?  "  he  reflected.  "  I  suppose 
she'll  have  gold-rimmed  spectacles  and  talk 
philosophy.  I  never  met  a  Boston  girl,  so  this 
will  be  a  new  experience.  After  all,  I  suppose 
women  are  very  much  alike,  no  matter  where 
they  come  from.  Doubtless  this  one  has  pulses, 


COURT    DAY  265 

just  as  other  girls  have,  and  perhaps  I  shall  be 
able  to  put  my  finger  on  them.  At  any  rate 
it  will  interest  me  to  try.  My  opportunities 
promise  to  be  good.  Major  Magister  and  the 
Judge  and  Jack  Towns  and  the  Common- 
wealth's Attorney  are  sure  to  fall  foul  of  each 
other  over  abstruse  law  points  that  the  rest  of 
us  know  nothing  about,  and  that  will  leave 
mine  hostess  and  the  Boston  maid  to  me." 

It  was  in  this  mood  of  pleasurable  but  by 
no  means  enthusiastic  anticipation  that  West- 
over  entered  the  home  of  his  host,  half  an 
hour  after  the  jury  had  returned  a  verdict  of 
"  not  guilty,"  in  the  case  of  Jack  Towns's  client 
—  a  verdict  that  was  based  rather  upon  the 
absence  of  evidence  that  Jack  Towns  had  suc- 
ceeded in  excluding  than  upon  the  evidence  ac- 
tually presented  at  the  trial. 


XXIV 

A    PERFECT    WOMAN AND   A    MAN 

WHEN  his  hostess  presented  him  to 
Millicent  Danvers,  Westover  could 
scarcely  believe  that  this  was  the 
young  woman  he  had  been  invited  to  meet.  He 
had  constructed  a  portrait  of  her  in  his  imagi- 
nation and  she  did  not  satisfy  any  of  the  details 
of  the  picture.  He  had  expected  to  find  her 
tall,  bony,  Roman-nosed,  and  sallow.  She  was 
instead  of  moderate  height,  plump,  with  deli- 
cately moulded  Grecian  features,  and  a  com- 
plexion of  pink  and  white  that  had  no  sugges- 
tion of  sallowness  in  it.  He  had  expected 
spectacles;  instead  he  found  a  pair  of  gray- 
blue  eyes  that  looked  into  his  own  with  candor 
and  fearless  trustfulness,  like  those  of  a  child 
of  four  or  five  years  of  age,  and  yet  with  the 
confidence  and  courage  that  come  only  of  good 
breeding  allied  to  perfect  innocence.  He  had 
266 


A    PERFECT    WOMAN  267 

prepared  himself  to  meet  an  aggressive,  self 
assertive  manner ;  instead  he  found  all  the  shy- 
ness of  young  girlhood,  all  the  modesty  of 
maiden  inexperience,  allied  with  a  frank,  self- 
respecting  truthfulness  that  was  fearless  be- 
cause of  its  confidence  of  right  intent. 

They  talked,  of  course,  about  the  young 
woman's  impressions  of  Virginia. 

"  It  is  lovely,"  she  said.  "  You  know  it  is 
all  a  surprise,  an  astonishment  to  me." 

"  How  so?  Would  you  mind  explaining 
that?" 

"  I  cannot  exactly  explain  it.  You  see  it's 
like  a  pleasant  dream.  You  know  it  made  you 
happy  while  you  were  dreaming  it,  and  you 
know  it  makes  you  happy  after  you're  awake, 
but  you  can't  tell  just  what  it  was  you  dreamed 
or  just  why  it  made  you  happy.  It  is  so  elusive 
that  you  can't  grasp  it  and  put  it  into  words. 
I'm  still  dreaming  Virginia,  and  I  know  I  shall 
never  be  able  to  tell  anybody  why  the  dream  is 
so  delicious.  I  try  to  think  it  out  sometimes, 
but  I  can't.  Whenever  I  make  up  my  mind 
that  it  is  because  of  this  thing  or  that,  I  say 
*  No,  that  isn't  it.'  I  suppose  it's  a  thousand 


268     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

little  things  put  together.  But  tell  me  about 
this  election  of  yours.  I'm  talking  too  much 
about  myself  and  my  thoughts." 

"  No,  you  are  not.  The  election  doesn't  in- 
terest me,  and  what  you've  been  saying  does. 
Go  on,  please.  You  had  more  in  your  mind." 

"How  can  you  know  that?"  she  asked  in 
genuine  surprise. 

"  Because  you  spoke  of  '  a  thousand  little 
things/  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  about  a 
dozen  of  them,  or  even  half  a  dozen." 

With  a  world  of  childlike  seriousness  in  her 
wide  open  eyes  the  girl  responded: 

"  I  suppose  I  ought  not  to  have  said  a  thou- 
sand. That  was  an  exaggeration,  and  exag- 
geration is  as  bad  as  any  other  kind  of  fibbing, 
isn't  it?" 

"  In  some  cases,  yes  —  in  some,  no.  Cer- 
tainly it  was  not  so  in  this  case.  Your  phrase 
carried  to  my  mind  precisely  the  thought  you 
had  in  your  own,  and  so  it  was  perfectly  truth- 
ful." 

"  I'm  glad  you  think  so.  I  try  always  to 
tell  the  truth." 

"  So  I  should  imagine.     Now  will  you  not 


A    PERFECT   WOMAN  269 

go  on  and  tell  me  some  of  the  things  that  please 
you  in  our  Virginia  life?  Is  it  so  different 
from  your  life  up  North?  You  see  I  have 
never  been  North." 

"  Oh,  yes,  so  different !  I  think  most  of  us 
up  North  are  good  people,  just  as  I  suppose 
most  people  are  everywhere.  But  there's  a  dif- 
ference—  a  something,  I  don't  know  just 
what.  Yes,  I  do,  too,  in  part  at  least,  though 
I'm  not  sure  I  can  put  it  into  words.  We  live 
within  ourselves,  and  you  don't.  We  love  our 
friends  and  are  kind  to  them,  but  we  aren't 
close  to  them,  as  people  down  here  are.  It  is 
because  we  are  shy,  I  suppose.  Our  attitude 
toward  money  values  is  different.  I  don't 
know  that  our  people  care  more  about  money 
than  you  do,  but  —  well,  we  take  it  into  ac- 
count as  you  do  not.  But  that  isn't  what  I 
mean.  There  is  a  certain  graciousness  in  your 
ways  of  living,  a  warmth,  a  color  —  I  don't 
know  what  to  call  it  —  that  fascinates  me. 
We  are  scrupulously  polite  to  each  other;  you 
are  cordially  courteous  instead.  I  suppose  that 
too  is  because  we  are  shyer  than  you  are.  We 
shrink  from  self  revelation  as  you  do  not.  I 


270     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

think  we  are  really  as  warm-hearted  as  you 
Virginians  are,  but  we  are  more  reserved." 

"  You  are  doubtless  right.  I've  observed 
that  temperamental  peculiarity  in  the  North- 
ern men  I've  met.  At  the  University  there  was 
a  young  man  from  Boston  who  became  my 
chum  under  rather  peculiar  circumstances,  and 
I  studied  him  closely.  Because  of  a  certain 
delicacy  of  constitution  which  rendered  your 
Boston  winters  dangerous  to  his  health,  he  was 
sent  to  the  University  of  Virginia  instead  of 
Harvard.  He  didn't  know  our  ways,  and  as 
a  *  Yankee  '  —  you  know  how  unjustly  that 
word  has  come  to  have  evil  significance  with 
us  —  he  was  a  good  deal  shunned,  and  things 
were  said,  and  —  well,  it  so  came  about  that 
he  and  I  became  chums  and  occupied  a  room 
together  on  the  lawn." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  she  answered  dreamily,  as 
if  recalling  a  story.  "  But  you  are  suppress- 
ing the  truth,  Mr.  Westover." 

In  an  astonishment  that  well  nigh  made  him 
spring  from  his  chair,  he  asked : 

"How  do  you  know  that?" 

"  Our  hostess  is  rising,"  she  replied  with  a 


A   PERFECT   WOMAN 


271 


calm  dignity  that  was  fascinating  to  the  young 
man.  :<  We  ladies  must  leave  you  gentlemen 
to  your  wine  and  cigars." 

"  I  do  not  take  wine,"  he  replied,  "  and  as 
for  cigars  I  shall  gladly  give  them  up  in  favor 
of  a  further  conversation  with  you.  If  you 
permit,  I  will  quit  the  table  with  you." 

"  There!  "  she  exclaimed.  "  That's  one  of 
the  '  thousand  '  things  I  spoke  of.  In  Virginia 
you  gentlemen  manifest  a  certain  deference 
toward  women  that  I  have  seen  nowhere  else. 
It  is  gallantly  protective,  respectfully,  not  serv- 
ilely submissive,  a  tribute  of  strength  to  weak- 
ness which  carries  with  it  no  reflection  upon 
the  weakness,  and  to  women  it  is  the  most 
fascinating  thing  imaginable.  I've  expressed 
it  lamely,  but  — "  and  with  that  she  took  a 
handful  of  cigars  from  the  passing  box  and 
added : 

"  At  any  rate  your  courtesy  to  me  shall 
not  cost  you  your  smoke.  We  won't  go 
into  the  drawing  room,  but  into  the  porch. 
The  day  is  mild,  and  I  want  to  tell  you  that 
story." 

"  Tell  me  first,"  he  said  as  they  passed  into 


272      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

the  porch,  "  how  you  happen  to  know  anything 
about  it." 

"  It  is  simple  enough.  I've  heard  my  brother 
tell  the  story  with  enthusiasm  many,  many 
times." 

"Your  brother?" 

"  Yes.  Holmes  Wentworth  is  my  elder 
brother.  My  mother  was  married  twice,  you 
know." 

"  I  see.    I  didn't  know.    If  I  had  known  —  " 

"If -you  had  known  you  wouldn't  have 
spoken  of  the  matter  at  all.  And  as  it  was, 
you  were  suppressing  all  the  interesting  facts. 
Now  I'm  going  to  relate  them  according  to 
the  gospel  of  Holmes  Wentworth.  In  a  deba- 
ting society  one  night  he  expressed  some  opin- 
ions that  gave  offence  to  certain  of  the  stu- 
dents, and  some  proposal  of  censure  was  made 
and  hotly  advocated.  You  opposed  it,  declar- 
ing that  debate  without  absolute  free  speech 
must  be  a  mockery.  Your  impassioned  utter- 
ance won  approval,  and  the  resolution  was 
voted  down  with  only  three  or  four  men 
voting  for  it.  They  were  not  Virginians 
and  —  " 


A    PERFECT    WOMAN  273 

"  They  were  the  sons  of  negro  traders,  every 
man  of  them,"  interrupted  Westover;  "and 
for  the  negro  trader  and  his  belongings  Vir- 
ginia gentlemen  have  neither  recognition  nor 
tolerance.  They  are  the  vilest  — 

He  paused  in  search  of  a  more  effective 
epithet,  and  she  spoke. 

"  I  know  all  about  that,"  she  said,  "  and  you 
needn't  bite  an  inch  off  your  next  cigar  by 
way  of  expressing  yourself.  Let  me  go  on 
with  the  story.  Those  '  lewd  fellows  of  the 
baser  sort '  went  down  into  Charlottesville  and 
organized  a  crew  of  ruffians  to  drive  Holmes 
Wentworth  out  of  the  University  and  out  of 
Virginia.  You  heard  of  the  thing,  and  arm- 
ing yourself  with  all  the  Colt's  revolvers  you 
could  borrow,  you  hurried  into  the  town. 
There  you  found  Holmes  sorely  beset  by  a 
dozen  armed  ruffians  and  a  crowd  of  other 
jeering  dissolutes.  You  pushed  him  up  into 
a  corner,  thrust  a  pair  of  the  pistols  into  his 
hands,  and  took  your  place  beside  him,  saying : 
'  If  they  rush  us,  shoot  with  both  hands,  and 
shoot  to  kill;  there's  no  good  in  wasting  am- 
munition.' Then  you  called  out  to  the  mob: 


274      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

'  Now  do  your  worst,  you  cowards !  But  the 
first  man  that  crosses  that  curbstone  dies  the 
death  of  the  dog  that  he  is,  and  we'll  send 
some  others  to  —  '  really  you  used  some  dread- 
ful language,  Mr.  Westover,  which  I  can't  re- 
peat, though  I  know  it  all  by  heart.  And  a 
little  later,  after  the  mob  had  quailed  before 
you,  you  swore  worse  than  ever,  ordering 
them  to  disperse  or  you'd  fire  into  them  and 
send  some  of  them  to  the  place  you  had  already 
mentioned.  Oh,  it  was  glorious!  But  the 
sheriff  came  and  drove  the  crowd  away.  You 
see  I  know  the  whole  story.  Do  you  wonder 
that  I  find  things  to  like  in  Virginia?  Then 
you  took  Holmes  to  live  in  the  same  room 
with  you,  and  after  you  learned  to  understand 
him  as  well  as  he  already  understood  you,  he 
and  you  became  bosom  friends." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  replied,  throwing  away  a 
cigar  that  he  had  forgotten  to  light ;  "  but 
really  Holmes's  imagination  is  creative  and  he 
has  made  too  much  of  a  trifle." 

"  He  hasn't  any  imagination  at  all,"  she  re- 
plied ;  "  he's  the  most  prosaic,  literal,  realistic 
fact  mongerer  imaginable,  as  you  very  well 


A    PERFECT    WOMAN  275 

know.  But  now  I'm  going  to  turn  woman 
again  and  talk  about  myself." 

Westover  thought  that  about  the  most  tact- 
ful turning  of  a  conversation  that  he  had  ever 
known.  But  she  gave  him  no  time  to  wonder 
over  it. 

"  I'm  staying  at  The  Oaks,  you  know,  with 
Margaret  Conway.  She's  the  very  sweetest, 
truest,  loveliest  girl  I  ever  knew.  She's  fit  to 
be  the  wife  of  the  noblest  man  in  Virginia." 

Westover  winced,  and  the  girl  observed  the 
fact  without  recognizing  it  in  any  way.  In- 
stead she  went  on : 

"  You  see  she  was  my  guest  for  six  weeks 
a  year  ago,  and  I'm  returning  her  visit  and 
incidentally  enjoying  life  better  than  I  ever 
dreamed  that  one  could  do.  By  the  way, 
there's  to  be  a  dance  at  Dr.  Carver's  over  at 
Fighting  Creek,  wherever  that  is,  to-morrow 
night  —  no,  it's  the  next  night,  and  as  there  is 
to  be  some  sort  of  public  meeting  near  there 
that  day,  I  suppose  I  shall  see  you  at  the 
party." 

At  that  moment  there  was  a  double  irrup- 
tion from  the  dining  room  on  the  one  side 


276      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

and  the  drawing  room  on  the  other,  into  the 
porch  to  see  an  autumn  sunset  of  peculiar  gor- 
geousness.  A  little  later  Boyd  Westover  took 
his  leave,  and  bidding  Jack  Towns  follow  at 
his  convenience,  set  out  for  Wanalah. 

As  he  went  he  found  himself  thinking  of 
Millicent  Danvers  with  far  more  admiration 
and  greatly  tenderer  sentiment  than  he  had  be- 
lieved himself  capable  of  feeling  toward  any 
woman  since  Margaret  had  been  lost  to  him. 

"  She  is  certainly  charming,"  he  said  to  him- 
self ;  then  correcting  his  thought  he  said,  "  No, 
that  is  not  the  word;  it  is  commonplace,  con- 
ventional, cheap,  and  nothing  commonplace, 
conventional  or  cheap  can  describe  Millicent 
Danvers.  She  is  all  woman  —  that's  it,  and 
I  can't  imagine  anything  better  as  belonging 
to  this  world  or  the  next.  She  is  honest,  truth- 
ful, genuine,  but  those  are  ordinary  virtues, 
and  her  virtues  are  not  confined  to  the  ordi- 
nary. She  is  sympathetic  with  all  things  that 
are  essentially  right  and  of  good  report.  Still, 
that  is  not  the  secret  of  her  charm,  for  many 
women  —  perhaps  most  women  —  are  all  that. 
She  has  high  ideals  and  she  is  loyal  to  them. 


A    PERFECT    WOMAN  277 

She's  the  sort  of  woman  Jephtha's  daughter  is 
supposed  to  have  been,  and  at  the  same  time 
she  has  all  the  qualities  that  make  the  story 
of  Ruth  the  greatest  masterpiece  of  all  litera- 
ture. Heroism  is  hers,  and  gentleness  not  less. 
She  is  a  Joan  of  Arc  and  she  is  the  most  trust- 
ing child  that  was  ever  gently  dandled  on  one's 
knee.  I  have  it !  She  has  faith ;  she  believes ; 
she  trusts,  and  in  her  belief  she  dares  and  hon- 
ors daring.  Heroism  is  to  her  an  object  of 
worship;  devotion  a  divine  inspiration;  truth 
an  inborn  characteristic.  It  is  just  as  I  said 
before  —  she  is  all  woman,  and  in  all  God's 
work  he  created  nothing  else  so  good  or  so 
great  as  that." 

As  he  reached  this  point  in  his  meditations 
he  was  passing  the  outer  gates  of  The  Oaks 
plantation,  and  suddenly  his  thought  reverted 
to  Margaret. 

"  She,  too,  is  a  woman  of  that  type,"  he  re- 
flected. "  I  do  not  understand  her  silence,  but 
I  should  be  unworthy  of  any  woman's  love  if 
I  doubted  her  truth.  I  will  not  doubt  her.  I 
will  let  no  other  take  her  place  in  my  heart  so 
long  as  I  live.  She  is  all  that  Millicent  Dan- 


278     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

vers  is,  and  to  me  she  is  more  and  always 
must  be.  She  is  the  woman  who  gave  me 
love  for  love,  and  even  in  an  estrangement  that 
can  now  never  be  undone,  I  cannot  forget  the 
troth  we  plighted  before  Fate  interposed  to 
spoil  my  life.  I  shall  not  attend  the  dance  at 
Dr.  Carver's." 


XXV 

THE    GREAT   RENUNCIATION 

THE  drizzling  rain  that  had  marred  the 
day  had  ceased  during  the  afternoon. 
The  late  October  sun  had  set  in  a 
golden  glory  while  yet  Westover  lingered  by 
the  side  of  Millicent  Danvers  in  the  porch  of 
the  Magister  homestead.     The  evening  that 
followed  was  irresistibly  tempting  to  lovers  of 
the  out  of  doors. 

Two  men  sat  in  converse  in  the  porch  at 
Wanalah. 

Two  women  sat  in  converse  in  the  porch  at 
The  Oaks. 

The  two  men  were  Boyd  Westover  and  Jack 
Towns. 

The  two  women  were  Margaret  Conway  and 
Millicent  Danvers. 

The  conversations  in  the  two  porches  were 
utterly  unlike  in  substance,  in  tone  and  in  ef- 
279 


28o      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

feet.  Nevertheless  they  were  not  unrelated  — 
in  part  at  least. 

Jack  Towns  had  come  to  give  an  account  of 
his  stewardship,  but  Westover,  with  his  habit- 
ual indifference  to  petty  details,  insisted  upon 
it  that  the  report  should  be  broadly  gen- 
eral. 

"  When  a  man  has  arranged  a  matter,"  he 
said,  "  involving  nine  seven  times  over,  I  like 
him  to  say  sixty-three  at  the  outset,  instead  of 
seven  times  nine.  I  hate  to  multiply  and  divide 
and  add  and  subtract." 

"  Why  the  deuce  are  you  doing  it,  then  ?  " 
demanded  Jack. 

"As  how?" 

"  Why  by  making  the  wholly  needless  and 
utterly  idle  computation  that  seven  times  nine 
is  sixty-three.  Why  didn't  you  just  say  you 
liked  totals  rather  than  the  factors  producing 
them?" 

"  I  suppose  it  is  because  I  never  studied  law 
and  therefore  haven't  a  well  ordered  mind." 

"  And  I  don't  suppose  anything  of  the  sort. 
I  suppose  it's  because  your  mind  is  fascinated 
with  some  other  subject  —  and  by  the  way  she 


GREAT    RENUNCIATION        281 

really  is  charming  —  so  that  it  wearies  you  to 
think  of  anything  else.  Perhaps  you'll  feel 
otherwise  when  you  hear  what  I  have  to  tell 
you.  Are  you  ready  to  listen  ?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly.     Go  on." 

"  Very  well  then.  That  father  of  yours  was 
never  so  wise  in  all  his  life  as  when  he  bought 
all  that  mining  land  up  in  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains. I  don't  know  and  I  can't  even  guess 
how  he  found  out  the  value  of  what  he  was 
buying." 

"  Perhaps  he  didn't,"  said  Boyd.  "  May  be 
he  was  simply  coppering  on  the  ace  and  taking 
the  chances." 

"  I  had  thought  of  that.  It's  the  most  prob- 
able solution.  However  that  may  be,  he  man- 
aged to  buy  Golconda  and  Ophir  and  Califor- 
nia and  Australia  and  the  mint  and  the  assay 
office  all  in  one  when  he  disbursed  a  few  thou- 
sand dollars  for  about  the  most  desolate  spot 
on  earth,  a  place  where  you  not  only  can't  raise 
a  potato  but  can't  even  boil  one  because  o-f  the 
altitude.  It  takes  half  an  hour  up  there  to  pro- 
duce a  soft-boiled  egg.  You  can  boil  water  in 
two  minutes,  and  as  it  boils  it  is  so  cool  you 


282      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

can  bathe  in  it  half  a  minute  later.  I  have 
some  counterfeit  continental  currency  in  a  cab- 
inet at  my  house,  and  upon  my  word,  if  any- 
body had  offered  me  all  the  land  your  father 
bought  for  you  up  there  in  exchange  for  one 
of  those  old  and  doubly  discredited  shin- 
plasters,  I  wouldn't  have  made  the  trade." 

"  Then  the  whole  thing  —  " 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind.  I  didn't  say  that  or 
suggest  it.  I've  put  your  land  and  mining 
rights  into  a  new  company  that  already  has 
machinery  and  management  and  technical 
skill  and  brains  established  there.  The  stock 
of  that  company  will  pay  heaven  only  knows 
how  many  hundred  per  cent,  per  annum  in  the 
way  of  dividends,  and  thirty-nine  per  cent,  of 
it  is  yours.  By  way  of  boot,  as  horse  traders 
call  it,  I  brought  away  nine  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars  in  sight  drafts  on  New  York 
and  Boston.  I  tried  hard  to  force  them  to 
make  it  a  million  just  for  the  name  of  the 
thing,  but  I  couldn't  because  they  are  men  of 
affairs  with  no  sense  of  the  picturesque.  And 
after  all  —  " 

"  What  on  earth  am  I  to  do  with  all  that 


GREAT    RENUNCIATION        283 

money?"  asked  Boyd  in  a  tone  of  distressed 
perplexity. 

"  Oh,  you'll  manage  that  easily  enough  after 
you  get  used  to  having  it.  And  if  you  don't 
want  to  bother  yourself  about  it,  you  needn't. 
I've  already  invested  it  for  you,  acting  un- 
der my  blanket  power  of  attorney,  so  that 
the  interest  is  all  you'll  have  to  look  out 
for." 

"  What  have  you  done  with  it,  Jack  ?  " 
"  In  view  of  the  disturbed  condition  of  poli- 
tics in  this  country  and  the  rumors  of  possible 
war,  I  have  had  something  more  than  half  of 
it  sent  to  the  Barings  in  London  to  be  invested 
in  British  consols  and  French  rentes.  The  rest 
is  invested  in  Virginia  sixes  and  other  good, 
interest  paying  bonds,  and  is  in  the  vaults  of 
August  Belmont  &  Co.  in  New  York.  By  way 
of  providing  you  with  pocket  money,  I've 
placed  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  to  your 
credit  in  the  Farmers'  Bank  of  Virginia. 
There.  There  isn't  a  seven  times  nine  problem 
in  that  whole  story  for  you  to  wrestle  with. 
You've  got  only  your  sixty-three  to  consider, 
and  when  you  grow  quite  sane  again  you  can 


284     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

go  over  the  detailed  statements  that  I  shall 
leave  with  you.  Now  tell  me,  what  does  it 
mean  —  Colonel  Conway's  attitude  I  refer  to 
of  course." 

"  Frankly,  I  don't  know." 

"  Tell  me  all  you  do  know,  and  perhaps  I 
can  figure  out  the  rest.  You  see  it  doesn't 
appall  me  to  have  a  seven  to  multiply  by  a 
nine." 

"  As  I  said  before,  I  don't  know.  Colonel 
Conway's  attitude  is  a  puzzle  to  me.  Either 
he  thinks  I've  done  something  to  offend,  or  he 
doesn't.  If  he  thinks  so,  it  isn't  conceivable 
that  he  should  sulk.  It  is  his  habit  in  such 
cases  to  make  an  open  issue  of  the  matter. 
He's  a  fighter,  you  know,  and  not  a  moody, 
secretive  hater.  If  he  doesn't  think  I  have 
done  anything  that  should  offend  him,  I  cannot 
understand  why  he  does  not  call  upon  me,  and 
especially  I  don't  understand  why  he  avoided 
meeting  me  by  staying  away  from  the  Court 
House  to-day,  where  I  happen  to  know  he  had 
important  business.  I  shall  challenge  his  atti- 
tude pretty  soon  and  force  some  sort  of  ex- 
planation." 


GREAT    RENUNCIATION        285 

"  Yes,  and  by  way  of  preparation  for  that, 
you  are  falling  in  love  with  the  girl  from  Bos- 
ton. That  will  complicate  matters  charmingly. 
Really,  Boyd,  fo-r  a  man  of  brains,  education, 
culture  and  all  that,  you  now  and  then  make 
the  most  elaborately  embroidered  idiot  of  your- 
self I  ever  knew." 

"But  I'm  not  in  love  with  Miss  Danvers; 
I  never  saw  her  until  to-day." 

"  I  quite  understand  that.  Nevertheless 
after  you  have  met  her  three  or  four  times 
more,  you'll  make  the  mistake  of  thinking 
yourself  in  love  with  her,  and  you'll  court  her 
and  she  will  accept  you  —  for  she's  positively 
daffy  about  you,  as  I  easily  found  out  after  you 
left  this  evening.  Then  you'll  awake  to  the 
fact  that  after  all  a  man's  affections  are  not 
so  easily  transferred  as  shares  of  stock  are. 
You've  never  told  me  so,  but  I  know,  never- 
theless, that  the  one  love  of  your  life  is  for 
Margaret  Conway,  and  if  you  permit  yourself 
to  attempt  a  transfer  of  that  passion,  you'll 
repent  it  in  sackcloth  and  ashes  so  long  as  you 
live.  No,  don't  interrupt  me.  I'm  in  desper- 
ate earnest,  and  I'm  going  to  say  my  say  out, 


286     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

even  if  it  results  in  your  ordering  my  horse  and 
bidding  me  be  gone  from  Wanalah  forever. 
Now  listen  to  me.  I  once  had  a  case  of  quar- 
relling heirs  to  deal  with.  If  they  had  been 
left  to  their  own  devices,  the  whole  estate  they 
were  fighting  for  would  have  been  dissipated 
in  chancery  proceedings.  I  went  to  each  of 
them  separately  and  compelled  each  to  tell  me 
his  side  of  the  story.  I  found  that  the  whole 
trouble  lay  in  a  lot  of  mutual  misunderstand- 
ings, as  most  quarrels  do.  I  multiplied  seven 
by  nine  and  found  it  made  sixty-three,  and 
after  a  little  I  got  all  of  them  to  accept  sixty- 
three  as  the  product  of  the  factors.  In  other 
words,  I  settled  the  whole  affair,  merely  by 
finding  out  both  sides  of  the  facts. 

"  Now  in  this  case  of  yours,  I  am  satisfied 
that  the  entire  trouble  arises  from  a  mutual 
misunderstanding.  I  insist  that  you  shall  tell 
me  all  the  facts  as  you  understand  them.  I 
shall  find  means  of  discovering  just  what  the 
facts  are  as  the  other  side  understands  them. 
It  is  impertinent  in  an  extreme  degree  for  me 
to  inquire  into  the  matter  at  all.  But  in  the 
practice  of  the  law  it  is  my  function  and  duty 


GREAT    RENUNCIATION        287 

to  be  impertinent.  Go  on,  then,  and  tell  me  the 
facts  as  you  understand  them." 

When  Jack  began  his  speech,  Westover 
foresaw  what  was  coming,  and  was  resentfully 
determined  to  permit  no  trespass  of  such  sort 
upon  his  privacy.  But  before  Jack  had  fin- 
ished, the  old  dream  of  life  and  love,  with 
Margaret  for  its  saint  and  sovereign,  had  re- 
vived in  his  mind.  What  if,  after  all,  Jack 
Towns  should  be  able  to  unravel  the  mystery 
of  Margaret's  silence  and  open  a  way  for  him? 
In  that  moment  all  the  love  he  had  cherished 
for  Margaret  surged  back  upon  his  soul  in  an 
overwhelming  flood  that  made  all  other  women 
objects  of  courteous  but  complete  indifference. 
He  saw  clearly  that  no  woman  on  earth  could 
ever  take  the  place  in  his  heart  that  this  one 
woman  had  made  her  own.  He  could  not  even 
conjecture  how  the  result  could  be  brought 
about,  but  the  very  dream  of  it  so  far  fascinated 
him  that  he  was  ready  to  put  aside  all  reserve 
and  respond  in  perfect  candor  to  Jack  Towns's 
impertinence. 

"  I  hardly  know  how  to  tell  the  story,  Jack/' 
he  responded,  "but  I'll  tell  it  somehow,  if 


288     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

you'll  give  me  time.  Margaret  and  I  were 
brought  up  together.  Never  mind  that;  it  is 
unimportant.  The  time  came  when  I  loved  her 
and  she  loved  me,  and  we  told  each  other  so. 
With  her  father's  enthusiastic  consent  we  be- 
came engaged,  and  it  was  planned  that  the 
marriage  should  take  place  during  the  late 
summer  —  as  soon  as  I  should  get  the  affairs 
of  Wanalah  adjusted.  With  that  in  view  I 
went  to  Richmond.  You  know  what  happened 
there.  I  wrote  to  Margaret  many  times.  I 
got  no  word  of  reply.  I  hoped  for  her  sympa- 
thy ;  I  had  silence  instead.  I  expected  Colonel 
Conway  to  come  to  my  side  during  my  trouble, 
and  to  lend  me  at  least  the  encouragement  of 
belief  in  me.  He  neither  came  nor  sent  a  line 
of  sympathy  in  support  of  my  courage.  Even 
the  death  of  my  mother  —  the  cruellest  blow 
that  fate  had  ever  dealt  me  —  brought  no  word 
or  line  from  him  or  from  Margaret.  When 
my  name  was  cleared  of  stigma  by  the  confes- 
sion of  the  real  culprit,  I  came  back  here  to 
Wanalah  with  the  avowed  purpose  of  making 
necessary  preparations  for  my  sojourn  in  the 
mountains.  In  point  of  fact,  as  I  know  now  — 


GREAT    RENUNCIATION        289 

my  purpose  was  to  open  the  way  for  some  com- 
munication between  Wanalah  and  The  Oaks. 
No  such  communication  came.  Colonel  Con- 
way  did  not  call  upon  me,  and  Margaret  sent 
me  no  line.  Since  then  Colonel  Conway  has 
emphasized  his  disapproval  of  me  in  other 
ways,  as  you  are  aware." 

"  Yes,  well  ?  You  believe  yourself  possessed 
of  ordinary  common  sense,  I  suppose?  "  asked 
Jack  Towns  in  the  tone  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
using  when  cross  examining  a  witness  whom 
he  intended  to  discomfit. 

"  Yes,  of  course." 

"  Are  you  acquainted  with  Margaret  Con- 
way?" 

"  Why,  of  course  you  know  —  " 

"  I  know  nothing.  I'm  trying  to  find  out. 
Answer  the  question.  Are  you  acquainted 
with  Margaret  Conway  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I've  known  her  ever  since  she  was 
born." 

"  Is  she  the  sort  of  woman  who  would  or 
could  do  what  she  appears  to  have  done  in 
this  case?  Is  it  conceivable  that  she  has  left 
you  in  a  crisis  like  that  which  you  have  gone 


290     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

through,  without  a  word  of  reply  to  letters  re- 
ceived from  you?  Is  it  probable?  Is  it  even 
possible  ?  Is  it  thinkable  ?  " 

"  Apparently  —  " 

"  Oh,  hang  '  apparently/  Apparently  the 
sun  circles  round  the  earth,  but  we  know  better. 
Apparently  the  moon  is  made  of  green  cheese, 
but  it  isn't.  Apparently  you  are  a  crass  idiot, 
but  in  the  ultimate  analysis  you  are  nothing  of 
the  kind.  Now  answer  my  question:  Is  it 
probable  or  even  conceivably  possible  that  un- 
der the  circumstances  of  your  trouble  in  Rich- 
mond, Margaret  Conway,  pledged  as  she  was 
to  be  your  wife,  and  possessed  as  she  is  of  an 
exalted  conception  of  womanly  truth  and 
honor,  and  saturated  as  she  is  with  the  courage 
of  a  proud  race,  the  courage  that  does  duty 
and  dares  consequences  —  is  it  conceivably 
possible  that  she  has  under  such  circumstances 
sat  still  and  left  unanswered  letters  received 
from  you  in  your  travail?  " 

"  It  seems  unaccountable  —  "  began  Boyd, 
and  his  companion  interrupted  him : 

"  Nobody  has  asked  you  to  account  for  that 
which  could  not  have  happened.  I  am  asking 


GREAT    RENUNCIATION        291 

you  to  search  your  own  soul  and  say  whether 
or  not  this  thing  can  be  true.  If  anybody 
should  tell  me  that  Boyd  Westover  had  set  up 
a  counterfeiting  plant  in  one  of  his  barns  and 
was  busily  '  shoving  the  queer,'  would  you  ex- 
pect me  to  go  bothering  about  how  such  a  thing 
could  have  come  about?  Would  you  not  ex- 
pect rather  that  I  should  give  the  story  the  lie 
without  further  ado?  This  is  a  like  case.  If 
you  know  Margaret  Conway,  you  know  she 
has  not  been  guilty  of  this  stupendous  wrong. 
You  have  no  right  to  go  on  acting  as  if  she 
had  been." 

"  You  are  right  of  course,"  Boyd  replied, 
"  so  far  at  least  as  the  principle  is  concerned. 
But  how  do  you  account  for  the  facts  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  my  business  to  account  for  the 
facts.  I  know  and  you  know  that  under  the 
circumstances  which  arose  in  this  case,  Mar- 
garet Conway  did  not  leave  unanswered  any 
letter  she  received  from  you.  Either  she  did 
not  receive  your  letters,  or  you  did  not  receive 
her  replies,  or,  more  probably,  both  things 
happened." 

"  But  how  could  that  be  ?    I  —  " 


292      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  I  don't  know.  I'm  not  the  proper  person 
to  ask.  I'm  going  up  to  bed  now,  if  you  don't 
mind.  I've  said  all  I  had  in  mind  to  say." 

The  conversation  in  the  other  porch  was 
not  like  this,  and  yet  in  its  way  it  was  not 
unlike  it. 

"  I  hope  you  enjoyed  yourself  at  the  Mag- 
isters'  to-day,  Millicent,"  said  Margaret  as  the 
two  seated  themselves  in  the  porch.  "  I'm 
sorry  I  couldn't  be  with  you,  but  you  see  old 
Judy  was  very  low,  and  I  really  had  to  stay 
with  her." 

"  Of  course.  Only  it's  all  an  astonishment 
to  me  —  I  mean  the  way  in  which  you  look 
after  negroes  who  are  ill." 

"  Why,  of  course  we  must  do  that  —  " 

"  Yes,  I  understand  now,  but  I  didn't.  I 
thought  you  treated  them  as  so  many  cattle. 
Of  course  I  knew  you  looked  after  your  own 
maids  and  other  personal  serving  women,  but 
I  thought  field  negroes  —  " 

"  I  know,  dear.  The  whole  system,  is  bad 
and  I  wish  we  were  rid  of  it.  But  people  up 
North  always  imagine  that  its  worst  possibili- 


GREAT    RENUNCIATION        293 

ties  are  the  daily  facts,  and  we  naturally  resent 
that.  We  aren't  angels  by  any  means,  but  at 
least  we  are  human  beings.  Never  mind  that 
now.  Tell  me  about  the  dinner  and  the  com- 
pany." 

"  Well,  I  didn't  see  much  of  the  company. 
The  Judge  and  Mr.  Towns,  and  the  Judge's 
wife  and  the  Commonwealth's  Attorney  talked 
hotly  about  law  things  that  I  didn't  at  all  un- 
derstand, so  I  talked  mainly  with  Mr.  Boyd 
Westover.  Margaret,  I'd  like  to  spend  my 
whole  life  listening  to  him  talk.  You  see  he's 
so  big  and  strong,  and  yet  so  gentle  and  chiv- 
alric.  He  makes  you  feel  that  you  ought  to 
think  yourself  worth  while,  because  he  respects 
you  so,  and  is  so  deferential  to  you.  Why, 
even  my  poor  little  thinkings  seemed  to  me  of 
some  account  because  of  the  way  in  which  he 
listened  to  me  and  treated  my  utterances.  I 
tell  you,  Margaret,  he  is  the  most  perfect  type 
of  the  gentleman  I  ever  saw  or  dreamed  of." 

The  night  was  starlit,  but  there  was  no 
moon  as  yet,  for  it  was  far  past  the  full,  and 
the  porch  was  dark.  Margaret  Conway  was 
grateful  for  the  shadow.  It  hid  her  counte- 


294      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

nance  and  prevented  self-revelation  of  a  kind 
that  must  have  filled  her  soul  with  humiliation 
and  shame.  It  gave  her  time  in  which  to  re- 
cover her  self-control.  Presently  she  forced 
herself  to  say : 

"  Mr.  Westover  is  certainly  a  good  example 
of  our  best  type  of  gentleman.  You'll  like  him 
more  as  you  become  better  acquainted  with 
him,  and  fortunately  you'll  meet  him  again  al- 
most immediately.  He's  sure  to  be  at  the  dance 
at  Dr.  Carver's  over  at  Fighting  Creek." 

"  Yes,  he's  to  speak  over  there.  Oh,  Mar- 
garet, I  wonder  if  I  might  hear  his  speech? 
Do  they  let  women  attend?  You  see  he  is  so 
big  and  brave  and  manly  and  so  handsome. 
He's  sure  to  make  a  speech  worth  listening 
to.  Do  you  think  I  might  get  a  chance  to 
hear  it?" 

1  Yes,  dear,  certainly,"  responded  Margaret 
in  a  voice  that  in  spite  of  her  had  something 
of  hardness  in  it.  "  I  will  arrange  that.  You'll 
sit  in  a  carriage  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd, 
and  you  can  hear  every  word,  unless  —  " 

"Unless  what,  Margaret?" 

"  Oh,  I  was  only  thinking  out  loud.     You 


GREAT    RENUNCIATION        295 

see  your  carriage  will  be  surrounded  by  half 
a  dozen  young  men,  all  in  love  with  you,  all 
madly  jealous,  and  all  eager  to  win  and  hold 
your  attention.  If  you  can  suppress  them, 
you'll  hear  the  whole  speech." 

"  Tell  me,  Margaret,  have  you  known  him 
a  long  time  ?  " 

"  Yes,  all  my  life." 

"  I  see,"  she  answered.  What  she  had  in 
her  mind  was  that  the  intimacy  between  these 
two  wa's  perhaps  too  close  and  too  familiar  to 
permit  a  softer  feeling  to  grow  up  between 
them.  "Otherwise,"  she  reflected,  "  they 
would  have  been  lovers  of  course.  How  could 
either  of  them  help  that?  " 

But  she  gave  no  utterance  to  the  thought. 
She  only  subconsciously  rejoiced  that  matters 
were  as  she  supposed  them  to  be. 

"  I  don't  think  I  can  be  with  you  over  at 
Fighting  Creek,  Millicent,"  said  Margaret 
after  she  had  mastered  herself  and  formed  a 
plan. 

"  But  why  not?  I  shall  not  go  if  you  can't," 
answered  the  girl  with  emphasis. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  will.    I  wish  you  to  be  there. 


296     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

You'll  meet  everybody  in  this  whole  region 
who  is  worth  meeting.  I  wouldn't  have  you 
miss  that  on  any  account.  Besides,  I  should 
get  up  a  very  unlovely  reputation  for  selfish- 
ness, if  I  suffered  you  to  miss  such  a  fes- 
tivity merely  because  I  can't  enjoy  it  with 
you." 

"  But  why  can't  you,  Margaret?  " 

"  There  are  several  reasons.  For  one  thing 
my  father  is  laid  up  with  an  attack  of  the  gout, 
you  know.  That's  why  he  turned  back  after 
he  had  started  to  Court  to-day.  He  doesn't 
seem  to  be  suffering  much,  but  gout  is  treach- 
erous, and  I  must  be  within  call  of  him.  Then 
again  there  are  two  or  three  cases  of  fever  at 
the  far  quarters." 

Then,  as  if  fearing  to  have  the  sufficiency  of 
her  excuses  too  closely  questioned,  she  hur- 
riedly added : 

"  I've  planned  it  all  beautifully,  Millicent. 
I'll  send  you  over  to  Fighting  Creek  in  The 
Oaks  carriage.  My  maid  shall  go  with  you 
as  escort,  and  I'll  send  for  Carter  Barksdale  to 
go  on  horseback  as  your  gallant  outrider.  You 
see  Carter  is  only  seventeen  years  of  age,  and 


GREAT    RENUNCIATION        297 

he  reads  Byron  and  Shelley  and  Scott  till  he's 
saturated  with  romance.  He's  perfectly  charm- 
ing, and  you'll  enjoy  his  escort  all  the  more 
because  he's  just  old  enough  to  fall  madly  in 
love  with  you  at  first  sight,  and  just  young 
enough  to  be  afraid  to  tell  you  so.  He's  a 
Virginia  type  that  I  want  you  to  meet.  That 
sort  of  boy  is  at  his  best  when  he's  seventeen 
and  takes  himself  so  seriously  that  he  shrinks 
from  the  open  declaration  of  the  fancies  he 
mistakes  for  passions.  He  will  revel  in  a 
silent,  unspoken,  unrequited  love  for  one  as 
far  removed  from  his  approach  as  the  northern 
star,  '  of  whose  true,  fixed,  and  resting  quality  ' 
he  will  quote,  '  there  is  no  fellow  in  the  firma- 
ment.' Of  course,  after  he  has  thoroughly  en- 
joyed the  unspeakable  wretchedness  of  a 
blighted  passion,  he  will  fall  in  love  with  the 
next  young  woman  several  years  older  than 
himself  who  comes  in  his  way,  and  have  the 
romance  all  over  again." 

"  Margaret,"  said  Millicent  seriously  and 
tenderly,  "  you  are  not  happy  to-night.  You 
are  cynical.  Something  has  disturbed  you. 
Don't  you  feel  that  you  can  tell  me  what  it 


298     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

is  and  let  me  share  your  sorrow  as  freely  as 
you  let  me  share  your  more  joyful  moods?  " 

Margaret  Conway  was  too  inherently  truth- 
ful to  protest  that  she  had  no  cause  of  unhap- 
piness  when  she  had.  But,  with  an  instinctive 
flinching  from  self-revelation,  which  every  sen- 
sitive soul  experiences  at  such  a  time,  she  care- 
fully framed  her  speech  for  purposes  of  avoid- 
ance. 

"  I  don't  think  I'm  cynical,  Millicent.  I 
don't  feel  so.  I  meant  only  to  be  amusing  in 
talking  of  something  that  always  amuses  me. 
It  has  always  seemed  to  me  funny  that  young 
men  should  be  so  desperately  afraid  of  us 
young  women  even  when  we  are  trembling  in 
holy  awe  of  them.  I've  seen  so  much  of  that 
sort  of  thing.  Sometimes  it  becomes  tragical 
and  spoils  lives  that  do  not  deserve  to  be 
spoiled.  I  knew  one  case  in  which  it  was  saved 
from  doing  that  only  by  the  impertinent  inter- 
ference of  a  very  peculiar  young  woman." 

"  Oh,  it's  a  story,"  exclaimed  Millicent, 
"  and  a  love  story  at  that.  Tell  it  please." 

"It  isn't  much  of  a  story,  but  I'll  tell  it. 
I  had  a  governess  whom  I  loved  dearly  and 


GREAT    RENUNCIATION        299 

with  reason.  She  taught  me  all  I  know, 
and  —  " 

"  She  must  have  been  a  woman  of  wonder- 
ful acquirements  then." 

"  She  was  and  is,  but  such  culture  as  I  pos- 
sess is  not  an  adequate  indication  of  her  learn- 
ing or  of  her  capacity  to  teach.  I  owe  her  all 
I  ever  learned ;  I  owe  to  my  own  indifference 
all  the  defects  in  my  education." 

There  was  something  in  Margaret's  tone  as 
she  said  this,  that  attracted  Millicent's  atten- 
tion. 

"  She  is  certainly  cynical,  self-accusative,  un- 
satisfied," she  reflected.  "  She  isn't  happy, 
and  it  behooves  you,  Millicent  Danvers,  to  find 
out  the  cause  and  remedy  the  condition  if  you 
can." 

Without  uttering  that  thought,  she  said : 

"  You  aren't  telling  me  the  love  story,  Mar- 
garet, and  I'm  eager  to  hear  that  before  I  let 
Carter  Barksdale  fall  in  love  with  me.  You 
see  I'm  young  and  wholly  inexperienced,  and 
I  naturally  want  to  learn  how  such  things  are 
conducted." 

Margaret  laughed  lowly,  as  she  thought : 


3oo     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  A  girl  like  you  doesn't  need  lessons  in  the 
conduct  of  love  affairs.  To  such  as  you, 
love,  —  like  '  to  write  and  read,  comes  by  na- 
ture.' " 

Then  she  resumed  her  story: 

"  Apart  from  her  learning,  Miss  Jane  was 
an  altogether  admirable  woman,  and  very  nat- 
urally our  neighbor,  Mr.  Skipwith,  fell  in  love 
with  her.  He  came  over  here  to  see  her  every 
day  for  more  than  a  year.  He  sent  her  flowers 
from  his  garden,  and  when  the  frosts  put  an 
end  to  that  he  built  a  green  house,  in  order 
that  he  might  keep  on  sending  her  flowers. 
But  somehow  he  never  could  get  up  courage 
enough  to  ask  for  her  hand,  until  one  day 
Harriet  Middleton  brought  about  a  crisis. 
Harriet  was  an  English  girl  of  peculiarly  good 
family  whose  father  had  migrated  to  Virginia 
in  search  of  health.  Harriet  was  almost  an 
old  maid,  though  not  quite.  She  was  blunt 
and  aggressive  in  manner,  though  as  gentle 
and  good  as  anybody  could  be  when  you  came 
really  to  know  her.  She  was  quick  and  shrewd 
of  observation,  and  it  did  not  take  her  long  to 
find  out  how  matters  stood  between  Mr.  Skip- 


GREAT    RENUNCIATION        301 

with  and  Miss  Jane.  But  the  days  and  weeks 
went  on  and  still  there  were  no  results.  One 
evening  when  the  moon  shone  dreamily 
through  a  soft  haze,  Mr.  Skipwith  and  Miss 
Jane  sat  here  in  the  porch,  while  Harriet  and 
I  walked  away  through  the  orchard,  by  way 
of  leaving  them  alone,  and  picking  up  some 
good  apples.  When  we  returned,  the  pair  were 
sitting  precisely  as  we  had  left  them,  at  a  re- 
spectful distance  from  each  other,  and  both 
their  attitude  and  their  manner  bore  convincing 
witness  that  even  the  hazy  moonlight  had  failed 
to  bring  about  a  crisis. 

"  Harriet's  patience  gave  way.  She  stalked 
into  the  porch,  with  that  horse-like  tread  that 
Englishwomen  use  for  a  walk,  and,  taking  her 
stand  between  the  two,  said : 

"  '  You  two  people  love  each  other.  You 
want  to  tell  each  other  about  it  but  you  don't 
dare;  so  I'm  telling  you  instead.  Now  that 
I've  introduced  the  subject,  perhaps  you'll  talk 
it  out.' 

"  With  that  she  passed  on  into  the  house, 
and  a  few  weeks  later  Mr.  Skipwith  and  Miss 
Jane  were  married." 


302     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  And  have  they  lived  happily  ever  after- 
wards?" 

"  Indeed  they  have.  They  are  well  to  do 
and  very  hospitable,  and  a  pleasanter  place 
to  visit  than  the  Skipwith  plantation  doesn't 
exist  in  Virginia." 

"And  Miss  Middleton?" 

"  She's  enjoying  herself,  bossing  an  insane 
asylum.  She's  only  a  patient  there,  but  she 
believes  she's  the  superintendent,  and  they  let 
her  give  all  the  orders  she  thinks  fit.  Matilda," 
addressing  a  maid  who  at  that  moment  ap- 
peared with  some  lemonade,  "  send  for  the 
carriage  please,  and  send  word  that  I  want  old 
Michael  to  drive  me.  Johnny  is  apt  to  go  to 
sleep." 

"  But  where  on  earth  are  you  going  to  drive 
at  eleven  o'clock  at  night?"  asked  Millicent 
in  wonder. 

"  Why,  you  know  I  have  some  fever  patients 
out  at  the  far  quarters." 

She  was  at  pains  not  to  say  that  she  was 
going  to  visit  them,  though  she  half  intended 
to  do  so.  Her  desire  — •  imperative  and  pas- 
sionate —  was  to  separate  herself  from  human 


GREAT    RENUNCIATION        303 

companionship  and  think  out  the  problems 
that  beset  her  soul. 

"  But  mayn't  I  go  with  you?  " 

"  No,  no,  no.  You  might  get  the  fever,  and 
besides,  you  must  get  your  beauty  sleep.  After 
you  are  married  to  —  to  some  Virginia  gentle- 
man, and  become  the  mistress  of  a  plantation, 
you  will  of  course  look  after  your  sick  servants. 
Just  now  it  is  your  duty  to  go  to  bed.  There's 
an  old  novel  '  Dunallan '  on  the  dressing  case 
in  my  room.  Go  in  there  and  get  it.  It's  the 
very  sleepiest  thing  I  ever  saw  in  my  life. 
Read  half  a  dozen  pages  of  it  and  you'll  be 
sound  asleep.  Good  night.  I  won't  speak  to 
you  when  I  come  back,  lest  I  disturb  your 
slumbers.  Oh,  by  the  way,  tell  Diana  to  put 
three  candles  on  my  candle  stand  and  place 
it  close  to  my  bed.  And  tell  her  please  to  go 
to  bed  as  soon  as  she  gets  things  ready  in  our 
rooms.  I  shall  not  want  her  to-night,  and  she 
has  had  a  hard  day." 

As  she  finished  speaking  the  carriage  drove 
up,  with  the  white-haired  old  coachman 
Michael  on  the  box.  He  had  long  ago  ceased 
to  have  active  duties  of  any  kind  to  do,  but 


304     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

when  his  "  young  missus  "  asked  for  him  to 
drive  her  anywhere,  at  any  time  and  under  any 
circumstances,  the  loyal  old  servitor  was  ready 
and  eager  in  response.  He  had  driven  Mar- 
garet's mother  on  her  wedding  journey  to  the 
mountain  resorts.  He  had  driven  Margaret 
herself  to  her  christening.  He  had  grown  old 
but  never  lax  in  the  service,  and  now  in  his 
old  age,  when  he  was  excused  from  all  service, 
it  was  his  chief  joy  to  drive  his  "  young 
missus  "  whenever  she  honored  him  by  asking 
that  he  should  do  so. 

On  this  occasion  he  saw  clearly  enough  that 
Margaret  was  distraught,  and  when  she  en- 
tered the  carriage  he  forbore  to  distress  her 
with  questions.  He  simply  picked  out  the  best 
roads  and  followed  them.  After  awhile  she 
spoke  to  him. 

"  I  reckon  you'd  better  drive  to  the  far  quar- 
ters, Uncle  Michael.  I  ought  to  see  the  sick 


ones." 


"  Dey  ain't  sick,  Miss  Margaret.  Least- 
ways dey  ain't  sick  enough  for  you  to  go  both- 
erin'  'bout  'em.  Dey's  jes'  a  sufferin'  dere  own 
calamities.  Dey  stole  a  shoat  night  before  last 


GREAT    RENUNCIATION 


305 


an'  gorged  on  it  all  night.  'Course  dey  had  a 
fever  yestiddy  an'  to-day.  Don't  you  go  a 
botherin'  'bout  dem  no  'count  niggas,  Miss 
Margaret.  Jes'  you  let  ole  Michael  pick  out 
de  roads  fer  you  and  drive  you  'bout,  com- 
fortable like." 

With  this  reassuring  release  from  obliga- 
tion, the  girl  sank  back  among  the  cushions 
as  the  late  rising,  gibbous  moon  came  up 
from  the  horizon,  and  abandoned  herself  to 
thought. 

She  was  a  woman,  young,  strong,  passion- 
ate; she  cherished  still  that  dream  of  love 
which  had  so  recently  inspired  and  illumined 
her  life.  She  could  not  understand  why  or 
how  it  had  been  snatched  away  by  circum- 
stance. It  was  hard  for  her  to  believe  that 
all  she  had  hoped  for  and  held  dear  had  been 
banished  from  her  life  by  a  final,  arbitrary,  in- 
explicable decree  of  fate. 

"And  yet,"  she  reflected,  "it  is  so.  Be- 
tween Boyd  and  me  there  is  a  great  gulf 
fixed,  and  nothing  can  furnish  a  bridge  across 
it." 

Then  another  thought  occurred  to  her. 


3o6     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  Suppose  I  should  write  to  Boyd  and  ask 
him  for  an  explanation? 

"  No,  I  could  not  do  that  without  sacrificing 
that  pride  of  womanhood  without  which  a 
woman  is  nothing  and  worse  than  nothing. 
No,  that  can  never  be.  I  wonder  why  he  does 
not  himself  offer  an  explanation  and  seek  a 
restoration  of  old  relations?  No,  that  can 
never  be.  It  would  involve  such  a  sacrifice  of 
manhood  as  is  inconceivable.  There  is  never 
any  explanation  possible,  never  any  solution  to 
this  riddle,  never  anything." 

She  sat  still  for  awhile,  not  thinking  at  all. 
Suddenly  she  reflected: 

"  After  all  it  is  his  happiness  that  I  care  for. 
My  own  is  of  no  consequence.  He  is  a  man, 
and  it  will  be  easy  for  him  to  transfer  his  af- 
fections. Men  are  not  like  women  in  that 
way.  Millicent  will  make  a  fitter  wife  for  him 
than  I  ever  could.  He  will  be  happy  with  her, 
and  as  for  me  —  well,  it  doesn't  matter.  I 
have  my  duties  and  my  occupations.  The  rest 
is  of  no  consequence.  He  shall  love  Millicent 
and  marry  her,  and  may  be,  when  I'm  an  old, 
old  woman,  he  and  I  will  come  to  understand 


GREAT    RENUNCIATION        307 

each  other  again,  at  least  so  far  that  neither 
shall  accuse  the  other  of  treachery." 

With  a  mind  attuned  to  the  great  renuncia- 
tion, she  called  to  Michael  and  bade  him  drive 
back  to  The  Oaks. 


XXVI 

MOONLIGHT    RESOLUTIONS 

MILLICENT  DANVERS  was  a 
frank,  open-minded  young  woman, 
almost  childlike  in  her  simplicity  of 
soul  in  every  case  where  candor  was  met  with 
equal  candor.  But  her  childlikeness  included 
a  child's  subtle  instinct  as  to  the  moods  and 
motives  of  others,  and  where  affection 
prompted  her  scrutiny  she  was  not  often  at 
fault  in  her  judgments  of  human  conduct. 

When  Margaret,  refusing  her  company, 
drove  away  that  night  Millicent  knew  per- 
fectly that  her  friend's  spirit  was  disturbed  in 
some  unusual  way,  for  until  then  these  two 
had  been  comrades  in  every  such  expedition, 
and  Margaret  had  been  the  one  most  insistent 
that  they  should  be  so. 

"  I  want  you  to  see  every  phase  of  our 
Virginia  life,"  she  had  many  times  said,  "  so 


MOONLIGHT    RESOLUTIONS    309 

that  when  you  go  back  to  Boston  you  may 
know  what  there  is  in  it  to  approve,  what  to 
admire,  what  to  condemn,  and  what  merely  to 
laugh  at.  For  I'm  sure  there  is  much  in  it 
that  must  strike  Northern  people  as  ludicrous. 
Anyhow  I  want  you  to  see  it  all  and  under- 
stand all  of  it.  Then  I'm  not  afraid  to  trust 
our  life  and  our  ways  and  our  impulses  to  your 
hands  for  explanation  and  exposition  to  people 
who  are  ignorant  of  them  or  know  them  only 
by  prejudiced  hearsay." 

The  events  of  this  day,  and  especially  Mar- 
garet's own  conduct  had  been  so  different  from 
all  this  as  to  awaken  curiosity  and  compel  at- 
tention. Both  the  curiosity  and  the  attention 
had  a  deep  and  sincere  affection  for  their 
prompting. 

When  Margaret  drove  away  and  the  late 
rising,  gibbous  moon  appeared  above  the  tree 
tops  and  shone  softly  through  the  windows  of 
Millicent's  southeast  room,  the  girl  sat  down 
there  by  a  casement  to  wonder,  to  conjecture, 
to  "guess,"  and,  better  still,  to  "  think  this 
thing  out  to  the  end." 

"  There    is    something    wrong    with    Mar- 


3  io     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

garet,"  was  her  first  thought.  "  She  is  dis- 
turbed and  distressed,  and  she  isn't  the  kind 
of  person  to  be  disturbed  and  distressed  with- 
out adequate  reason.  Why  didn't  she  go  over 
to  the  Court  House  with  me  this  morning  and 
dine  at  the  Magisters'?  She  intended  to  do 
so.  She  and  I  had  planned  it  all  out,  and  she 
had  accepted  Mrs.  Magister's  invitation.  It 
was  only  at  the  last  moment  that  she  decided 
to  stay  and  nurse  her  father's  purely  mythical 
gout.  It  was  only  five  minutes  before  that 
that  a  note  had  come  from  Mrs.  Magister, 
saying  that  Mr.  Boyd  Westover  had  come 
down  out  of  the  mountains  and  that  she 
should  '  compel '  him  to  be  one  of  her  dinner 
guests.  I  wonder  if  that  news  brought  on  the 
attack  of  gout,  and  decided  Margaret  to  stay 
at  the  Oaks  and  nurse  it? 

"  Then  again  it  is  clear  that  Margaret  does 
not  expect  Mr.  Westover  to  visit  her  in  the 
near  future.  I  wonder  why?  His  plantation 
adjoins  this,  and  everybody  says  the  two 
families  have  been  intimate  for  generations. 
There  must  be  some  special  reason.  In  fact 
there  is.  Somebody  told  me  to-day  that  Colo- 


MOONLIGHT    RESOLUTIONS    311 

nel  Con  way  had  refused  to  join  in  the  nomina- 
tion of  Mr.  Westover,  and  that  the  fact  is 
injuring  Mr.  Westover's  canvass.  I  wonder 
what  it  means  ?  Naturally  Mr.  Westover  and 
Margaret  should  be  sweethearts,  and  after  a 
while  they  should  marry  each  other.  I  won- 
der why  things  haven't  gone  that  way?  May 
be  they  have  been  too  intimate  in  their  child- 
hood. No,  that  isn't  the  solution.  It  doesn't 
explain  Margaret's  care  to  avoid  Mr.  West- 
over.  It  doesn't  explain  her  plan  to  send  me 
to  Fighting  Creek  without  her.  It  doesn't 
explain  her  drive  to-night.  It  doesn't  explain 
anything.  If  they  were  mere  intimates,  too 
intimate  to  think  of  love,  Mr.  Westover  would 
be  a  frequent  guest  at  The  Oaks  and  the  rela- 
tions of  the  two  would  be  comradely.'* 

She  paused  for  a  while  in  the  formulation 
of  her  thinking  into  orderly  phrases.  Then 
she  reflected  : 

"  When  I  mentioned  Margaret  to  him  at 
dinner  to-day  he  distinctly  winced.  Every 
time  I  have  mentioned  him  to  her  to-night, 
she  has  turned  the  conversation  to  other  sub- 
jects." 


3i2      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

There  was  another  long  pause  in  the  for- 
mulation of  her  thought.  At  last  her  com- 
mon sense  asserted  itself  and  she  said  to  her- 
self: 

"  Millicent  Danvers,  you  are  treading  upon 
dangerous  ground,  and  you  must  get  off  it  as 
quickly  as  possible.  There  has  been  a  love  af- 
fair between  Margaret  and  Westover.  You 
can't  shut  your  eyes  to  that  fact  or  pretend  not 
to  see  it.  Some  break  has  come,  but  such 
breaks  may  be  repaired,  and  it  is  your  func- 
tion to  repair  this  one." 

A  wave  of  melancholy  swept  over  her  soul 
as  she  thought  of  this.  She  mightily  admired 
Boyd  Westover,  and  she  had  even  dreamed 
a  little  dream  with  regard  to  him.  She  was 
a  proud  maiden  in  her  way  and  as  she  searched 
her  heart  there  in  the  moonlight,  she  decided 
that  she  had  not  suffered  herself  to  fall  in  love 
with  Westover. 

"  How  could  I  ?  "  she  challenged  herself  to 
answer.  "  I  have  met  him  but  once.  The 
thing  is  absurd.  Besides,  no  self-respecting 
young  woman  gives  her  love  to  any  man  until 
he  asks  for  it.  No,  of  course  I'm  not  in  love 


MOONLIGHT    RESOLUTIONS    313 

with  Mr.  Westover.  It  is  nothing  but  admira- 
tion that  I  feel  for  him." 

Then,  as  she  looked  out  into  the  tree-studded 
house  grounds,  where  all  nature  seemed  to 
sleep  in  the  soft  haze  of  the  moonlight,  she 
added  to  her  thought : 

"  But  it  would  be  easy  for  such  a  man  to 
change  a  woman's  admiration  into  love  by  a 
phrase,  a  word,  a  look  into  her  eyes.  Thank 
God  he  has  not  yet  looked  into  my  eyes  in  that 
way,  and,  God  being  my  helper,  he  never  shall. 
After  all,  —  well,  after  all  there  are  only  a  few 
men  in  the  world  that  —  well,  anyhow,  it  isn't 
so  terrible  a  thing  to  be  an  old  maid,  and  I'll 
do  my  duty  in  this  case  if  the  stars  start  from 
their  courses,  as  a  consequence."  Then  she 
laughed  under  her  breath,  and  jeered  in 
mocking  fashion  at  the  absurdity  of  her 
thought : 

"  Of  course  the  stars  will  do  nothing  of  the 
kind.  That  was  a  bit  of  heroics,  and  I'm  not 
a  heroine  of  romance.  I'm  only  a  simple,  hon- 
est, Boston  girl.  I  love  Margaret  dearly,  and 
I'm  resolved  to  do  all  I  can  to  bring  about  a 
reconciliation  between  her  and  Mr.  Westover, 


3i4      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

for  I'm  satisfied  there  is  need  for  something 
of  the  sort.  That's  sane  and  sensible  at  any 
rate,  and  the  stars  have  nothing  to  do  with 
it." 

She  had  been  reading  an  essay  entitled, 
''  The  Great  Renunciation,"  and  she  was  full 
of  its  spirit,  almost  a  devotee  to  the  impulses  it 
sought  to  inspire.  But  as  she  recalled  it  she 
laughed. 

"  That  had  to  do  with  the  great  religions 
of  the  world.  It  didn't  refer  to  the  case  of  a 
sensible  girl  who  finds  herself  particularly  at- 
tracted by  a  young  man  at  a  first  meeting  and 
decides  that  she  will  not  let  him  fall  in  love 
with  her  because  she  realizes  that  the  best  loved 
friend  of  her  life  is,  or  has  been  or  ought  to 
be  his  affianced  wife.  Millicent,  I'm  ashamed 
of  you.  After  all  the  instruction  you've  had  as 
to  the  conduct  of  life  and  the  behavior  of  young 
women,  this  thing  is  ridiculous." 

Nevertheless  there  was  sadness  in  that  inex- 
perienced heart  of  hers,  as  she  saw  the  carriage 
reenter  the  house  grounds,  and  herself  ha- 
stened to  bed  lest  her  friend  should  discover 
her  vigil.  But  if  hers  had  not  been  the  great 


MOONLIGHT    RESOLUTIONS    315 

renunciation,  at  least  it  had  been  a  resolution 
of  loyalty  and  good  faith,  and  perhaps  in  the 
eyes  of  the  angels  the  two  things  are  very 
nearly  the  same.  Her  exacting  New  England 
conscience  at  any  rate  was  satisfied,  so  that  it 
let  her  sleep,  just  as  Margaret's  Virginia  con- 
science —  different  in  kind  but  equally  exigent 
in  its  demands  —  permitted  slumber,  sweet  and 
refreshing,  to  come  to  her. 

When  the  morning  came  these  two  met, 
each  intently  resolved  to  render  to  the  other 
the  supreme  service  of  sacrifice,  and  neither 
dreaming  of  the  other's  thought.  But  in  all 
human  affairs  circumstance  has  its  part  to  play, 
and  while  it  cannot  alter  purposes  it  often  plays 
havoc  with  results.  It  was  so  in  this  case. 
Things  happened,  and  the  happening  was  more 
decisive  than  the  moonlight  meditations  of  a 
pair  of  maidens  could  possibly  be. 


XXVII 

THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    JACK    TOWNS 

BOYD  WESTOVER  had  the  excellent 
mental  habit  of  attending  carefully  to 
more  than  one  thing  at  a  time. 
Just  now  he  had  the  election  on  his  hands, 
and  with  it  some  problems  of  personal  dignity 
and  repute  that  required  his  closest  attention. 
But  he  also  had  Wanalah  plantation  to  look 
after,  and  in  view  of  his  long  absence  he  felt 
that  home  affairs  were  pressing. 

Accordingly  he  was  up  before  the  dawn,  on 
the  morning  after  his  arrival,  and  for  half  an 
hour  after  dawn  he  waited,  not  at  all  patiently, 
for  the  coming  of  his  overseer,  to  whom  he  had 
sent  a  summons  over  night  to  be  with  him  "  at 
the  crack  of  day."  Then  instead  of  waiting 
longer,  he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away 
on  a  tour  of  inspection. 

It  was  well  after  sunrise  when  he  returned 
316 


PHILOSOPHY    OF    TOWNS      317 

to  find  the  overseer  hitching  his  horse  to  the 
rack. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Wilkinson,"  he  said; 
"  I  had  hoped  to  see  you  this  morning." 

"  I'm  sorry,  sir,  but  I  was  very  tired  last 
night." 

"  So  was  I.  I  had  walked  all  through  the 
night  before.  Ne\rer  mind  that  now.  I  wanted 
to  see  you  at  dawn.  The  sun  is  now  half  an 
hour  high.  That  means  that  you  have  wasted 
an  hour  and  a  half  of  my  time,  and  my  time 
is  just  now  precious." 

"  I'm  very  sorry,  sir  —  " 

"  Don't  bother  to  apologize.  I  can't  waste 
any  further  time  listening  to  excuses.  Why 
are  you  seeding  the  Gaston  field  in  wheat?  I 
directed  otherwise,  you  know." 

"  Well,  sir,  the  fall  has  given  us  good 
weather,  and  we  can  get  in  that  two  hundred 
acres  as  well  as  not." 

"  But  how  about  harvesting  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I'll  manage  that." 

"  Yes,  by  making  the  negroes  work  by 
moonlight,  as  you  did  last  summer  to  the  ever- 
lasting shame  of  Wanalah  plantation,  and  just 


3i8     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

as  you  made  too  many  hogsheads  of  tobacco 
and  too  many  barrels  of  corn  to  the  hand.  I 
have  told  you  before  and  I  tell  you  now  that 
I  will  not  have  the  hands  over-worked.  Is  the 
Gaston  field  seeded  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  We  begin  on  that  to-day." 
"  Don't  seed  it.  Let  it  lie  fallow." 
"  But  my  gracious,  Mr.  Westover,  —  " 
"  Never  mind  about  your  gracious.  I  tell 
you  not  to  seed  that  field.  And  another  thing : 
You  planted  seven  hundred  thousand  hills  of 
tobacco  last  year.  I  want  you  to  write  it  up 
in  your  hat  that  four  hundred  thousand  is 
Wanalah's  limit.  I  want  you  to  understand 
that  this  plantation  is  not  run  for  money.  If 
it  supports  itself,  giving  a  decent  living  to  the 
whites  and  blacks  on  it,  I  shall  be  satisfied.  If 
it  doesn't  quite  do  that,  I'll  find  a  way  in  which 
to  make  up  the  deficiency.  Now  I  want  you 
to  give  all  the  negroes  on  the  plantation  a 
whole  holiday  to-morrow.  I  understand 
there's  to  be  a  big  picnic  with  all-day  preach- 
ing over  at  Mount  Moriah  church,  and  I  want 
everybody  on  the  plantation  to  attend  it.  By 
the  way,  Bob ! "  calling  to  a  passing  negro, 


PHILOSOPHY    OF    TOWNS      319 

"  go  at  once  and  tell  old  Joe  I  want  him  to 
kill  two  sheep  —  good  fat  ones  —  three  shoats 
and  four  turkeys  this  morning;  tell  him  to 
hang  'em  in  the  ice  house  as  soon  as  they're 
dressed,  and  send  them  over  to  Mount 
Moriah  early  to-morrow  morning.  Do  you 
hear?" 

"  Yassir !  "  responded  Bob,  his  mouth  al- 
ready watering  for  the  share  he  expected  to 
eat  of  the  good  things  thus  promised. 

"  And,  Bob,  tell  Uncle  Joe  to  take  them  over 
there  himself  and  say  that  Mas'  Boyd  Westover 
hopes  the  folks  will  have  a  good  time  and  get 
as  much  religion  as  they  need." 

"  But,  Boyd,"  said.  Jack  Towns,  who  had 
sleepily  strolled  into  the  porch,  "  don't  you 
think  —  " 

"  No,  decidedly  not,  Jack.  You  see  Wana- 
lah  is  the  plantation  nearest  to  Mount  Moriah, 
and  it's  the  natural  base  of  supplies  for  a  meet- 
ing there.  If  I  don't  furnish  the  provender 
they'll  steal  it  out  of  my  pasture,  my  pig  pen 
and  my  turkey  yard.  I  very  much  prefer  that 
they  should  get  the  things  honestly,  and  it  costs 


320      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

Then,  returning  to  business,  he  said  to  the 
overseer : 

"  You  understand  the  general  spirit  of  my 
instructions,  Mr.  Wilkinson,  and  I  beg  you  to 
bear  it  in  mind.  I'll  give  more  specific  orders 
from  time  to  time,  as  they  are  needed." 

"  But  what  about  me?  "  answered  the  over- 
seer. "  I've  got  a  reputation  for  makin'  more 
tobacco  to  the  hand  an'  more  wheat  to  the  acre 
an'  more  corn  on  top  o'  that  than  any  other 
man  as  oversees  a  plantation  anywheres  for 
forty  mile  around  here." 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

"  Well,  it's  this  a  ways.  I  ain't  a-goin'  to 
lose  a  reputation  I  prides  myself  on.  Ef  you 
don't  want  your  niggers  worked  fer  all  they's 
worth,  perhaps  you'd  better  look  out  fer  an- 
other overseer." 

Westover  flushed  angrily,  more  at  the  tone 
than  at  the  words,  and  answered  instantly: 

"  Perhaps  I  had.  At  any  rate  I  will.  I 
shall  not  renew  my  contract  with  you  for  an- 
other year." 

The  Virginians  were  very  tolerant  of  inso- 
lence on  the  part  of  a  negro.  Usually  they 


PHILOSOPHY    OF    TOWNS 


321 


treated  it  as  badinage,  quite  harmlessly  and 
humorously  meant.  But  insolence  on  the  part 
of  an  overseer  was  always  taken  seriously  and 
instantly  resented.  The  overseers  constituted 
a  pariah  class,  for  whom  there  was  tolerance 
only  so  long  as  they  "  minded  their  manners." 

As  the  overseer  lingered  in  hope  of  some 
modification  of  the  sentence  he  had  brought 
upon  himself,  Westover  impatiently  turned 
upon  him,  saying : 

"  I  think  I  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  you, 
Mr.  Wilkinson,  and  I  wish  to  talk  with  Mr. 
Towns.  You  may  go  now." 

As  the  man  walked  down  the  road  that  led 
to  the  outer  gates,  he  muttered : 

"  I'll  git  back  at  him  for  that.  He's  a  sneak- 
in'  abolitionist.  I'll  be  over  at  Fighting  Creek 
to-morrow,  seein's  he's  made  it  a  holiday  here." 

"  Now  I  want  to  talk  with  you,  Jack,"  said 
Westover  when  the  man  was  well  out  of  ear- 
shot. 

"  So  I  understood  you  to  say  to  Mr.  Wil- 
kinson; and  you  may  go  on  and  talk  to  me 
till  the  cows  come  home,  if  it  amuses  you  to  do 
so,  but  if  you  expect  me  to  talk  back  in  any 


322      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

rational  way,  you've  simply  got  to  wait  till 
after  breakfast.  When  I've  had  two  cups  of 
coffee,  the  best  part  of  a  roe  herring,  three  or 
four  slices  of  cold  ham,  a  wedge  or  two  of  hot 
light  bread,  some  beaten  biscuit,  and  one  of 
your  belated  cantaloupes,  I  shall  begin  to  ap- 
preciate the  fact  that  I  have  a  brain.  Till  then 
I  decline  to  consider  myself  a  rational  being. 
Go  on  and  talk,  if  you  want  to." 

"  I  will,"  answered  Westover,  passing  into 
the  house.  To  one  of  the  dining-room  serv- 
ants he  said : 

"  Serve  a  pot  of  coffee  to  Mr.  Towns  imme- 
diately, do  you  hear?  Is  it  ready?  " 

Half  a  minute  later  Cilia  appeared  in  the 
porch  bearing  a  tray  with  coffee  and  its  ac- 
cessories daintily  arranged  upon  a  napkin. 
The  servants  at  Wanalah  had  not  yet  lost  their 
memory  of  the  training  they  had  received  in 
youth. 

"  There,"  said  Westover,  "  saturate  your 
soul  and  stimulate  your  system  with  coffee. 
And  by  the  way,  there's  a  frost-bitten  tomato 
sliced  up  to  deceive  your  eyes  and  your  appe- 
tite. How  long  before  breakfast,  Cilia?  " 


PHILOSOPHY    OF    TOWNS      323 

"  It's  a-bein'  brung  in  now,"  answered  the 
serving  girl,  "  all  but  the  hot  buckwheat  cakes, 
an'  them'll  come  a  little  later." 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  Virginians  to  talk 
freely  at  table,  paying  no  heed  whatever  to  the 
presence  of  their  servitors.  Accordingly,  as 
soon  as  Jack  Towns  began  to  discover  his 
brains  again,  under  the  influence  of  a  breakfast 
that  might  have  made  a  chatterer  of  the  Sphinx 
itself,  the  two  talked  of  plans. 

"  My  first  endeavor,"  said  Westover,  "  will 
be  to  compel  Colonel  Conway  to  declare  him- 
self. To  that  end,  as  soon  as  breakfast  is  done, 
I  shall  send  him  a  letter  that  will  require  a  re- 
sponse of  some  sort.  You  see,  Jack,  his  atti- 
tude is  far  more  hurtful  to  me  than  the  most 
aggressive  antagonism  on  his  part  could  be. 
Everybody  knows  that  the  Westovers  and  the 
Conways  have  been  the  most  intimate  friends 
possible  throughout  generations  past.  If  he 
and  I  had  had  a  quarrel,  everybody  would  un- 
derstand. But  we  have  had  no  quarrel,  and  so 
nobody  understands  and  everybody  wonders. 
If  he  believes  I  was  guilty  down  there  in  Rich- 
mond —  " 


324     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  He  can't  think  that,  unless  he's  an  idiot 
of  extraordinary  capacity  for  the  lunatic  mis- 
interpretation of  facts,"  interrupted  Towns. 

"  Perhaps  not.  Still,  I  remember  hearing  a 
'  Pennsylvania  Dutch  '  magistrate  declare  from 
the  bench  that  '  Nodings  is  possible  mit  Gott/ 
and  so  it  may  be  that. he  believes  that.  If  so 
he  has  a  perfect  right  to  express  his  belief. 
All  I  ask  is  that  he  shall  say  what  it  is  he  has 
against  me." 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense !  Rot  and  rubbish ! 
Scammony  and  gamboge!  Moonlight,  music, 
love  and  flowers!  Transcendentalism  and 
green  cheese !  "  exclaimed  Jack  Towns,  multi- 
plying words  as  a  man  of  oratorical  habit  is 
apt  to  do.  "  You  know  perfectly  well  that  he 
believes  nothing  of  the  sort.  Recall  our  con- 
versation of  last  night." 

"  I  remember  it  perfectly,  and  that  is  why 
I'm  going  to  write  to  Colonel  Conway  this 
morning.  It  may  open  the  way  to  an  expla- 
nation." 

"  It  may,  of  course.  But  if  I  were  in  your 
place  I'd  write  to  Margaret  instead." 

"  How  can  I  ?     I  have  written  to  her  again 


PHILOSOPHY    OF    TOWNS      325 

and  again,  and  she  has  not  answered.  Self- 
respect  forbids  me  —  " 

"  I  quite  understand.  It  was  self-respect 
that  caused  a  cat  to  lose  an  eye  in  a  scrimmage 
rather  than  explain  to  the  other  cat  that  the 
fence  he  was  sitting  on  was  the  personal  prop- 
erty of  his  own  master.  Never  mind.  If  you 
won't  write  to  Margaret,  write  to  her  father 
by  all  means.  It  may  provoke  a  crisis  of 
some  sort,  and  that  is  the  one  thing  to  be  de- 
sired just  now." 

But  Boyd  Westover  was  not  destined  to  send 
that  letter.  He  toiled  over  it  half  the  day  and 
more.  He  wrote  it  in  forty  different  forms. 
He  used  up  more  letter  paper  than  had  been 
consumed  at  Wanalah  during  a  year  or  more 
past,  but  he  could  not  get  the  thing  into  a  shape 
that  would  do.  Finally  he  threw  down  his 
pen  and  turning  to  Jack  Towns  said : 

"  The  trouble  is,  Jack,  that  when  I  try  to 
formulate  my  complaint  there  isn't  a  thing  to 
challenge  or  question.  Colonel  Conway  has 
not  been  here  to  call  upon  me,  but  I  cannot 
decently  complain  of  that.  He  has  refused  to 
join  with  others  in  nominating  me,  but  that  too 


326     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

was  his  right  and  I  cannot  question  it.  The 
whole  thing  is  so  negative  that  really  there  isn't 
a  point  I  can  mention  as  a  ground  of  com- 
plaint." 

"Yes?    Well  —  " 

"  Yes,  well,  what  ?  Why  don't  you  say 
something?  " 

"  I  will.  I'll  say  that  you're  irritable  to-day. 
You  showed  it  your  confab  with  your  overseer, 
who  is  a  very  worthy  man  with  an  exaggerated 
notion  of  the  work  a  field  hand  ought  to  do  in 
a  day.  You  showed  it  at  breakfast,  when  you 
complained  because  the  buckwheat  cakes  didn't 
make  their  appearance  precisely  on  time.  Is 
there  anything  else  you'd  like  me  to  say  ?  " 

"  Yes.  What  am  I  to  do  in  this  matter, 
by  way  of  bringing  about  a  tolerable  situa- 
tion?" 

"  Why,  nothing,  of  course.  I  could  have  told 
you  that  this  morning,  but  you  wouldn't  have 
believed  it  then.  Now  that  you've  exhausted 
your  literary  capacity  and  most  of  the  Wana- 
lah  stationery  in  a  futile  effort  to  do  the  im- 
possible, it  may  be  worth  my  while  to  say  to 
you  that  in  a  case  of  this  kind  there  is  nothing 


PHILOSOPHY    OF    TOWNS      327 

you  can  do  except  await  events  with  due  re- 
spect for  your  own  dignity.  Shut  up  your 
desk  and  send  for  some  horses.  Let's  have  a 
gallop  before  dinner  time.  And  by  the  way, 
I'd  like  to  ride  that  young  iron  gray  mare 
you've  got  in  your  stables.  She  impresses  me 
so  favorably  that  I  should  buy  her  if  she  be- 
longed to  anybody  who  would  sell." 

"  Why,  when  did  you  inspect  her,  Jack?  I 
hadn't  a  thought  —  " 

"  I  know  you  hadn't,  but  while  you've  been 
busy  at  your  desk,  trying  to  accomplish  the 
impossible,  I've  been  down  to  the  stables  and 
had  the  mare  out  for  inspection.  She's  a 
beauty  and,  so  far  as  I  know  the  points  of  a 
horse,  she  has  all  of  them  that  are  worth  while. 
She's  a  Red  Eye  of  course?  " 

"  Yes  —  Red  Eye  and  Nina.  She's  Nina's 
own  colt.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  Jack.  If 
you'll  stay  with  me,  making  Wanalah  your 
home  till  this  confounded  election  is  over,  — 
just  to  keep  me  sane,  you  know,  —  the  mare 
shall  be  yours,  as  a  souvenir  of  your  safe  re- 
turn from  the  Rocky  Mountains." 

"  Done!  "  exclaimed  Jack.     "  But  if  I  have 


328     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

to  club  you  by  way  of  keeping  you  sane,  you 
won't  too  greatly  mind,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least.  It's  the  clubbing  I  want. 
Really,  Jack,  I  often  think  I  haven't  quite 
grown  up  and  never  shall.  I  have  my  full 
complement  of  inches,  of  course,  and  I  can  be 
dignified  upon  occasion,  but  when  it  comes  to 
emotional  things,  somehow  —  " 

"  Somehow  you're  nothing  but  a  romantic, 
sentimental  boy.  I've  heard  you  quote  Keats 
and  Shelley  when  an  arithmetic  or  a  geography 
would  have  been  much  more  to  the  purpose. 
I  was  born  that  way  myself,  and  so  you  see 
I  understand  your  malady  and  sympathize  with 
you,  but  as  for  myself  I've  worked  a  complete 
cure." 

"How  did  you  manage  it,  Jack?"  asked 
Westover  in  amused  anticipation. 

"  Oh,  easily  enough.  I  have  cultivated 
catholicity  of  taste  in  the  matter  of  girls. 
You  know  all  sentimentality  in  men  has  its  ul- 
timate origin  in  their  attitude  toward  women. 
Now  in  sentiment,  as  in  everything  else,  mod- 
eration is  desirable  and  excess  is  destructive. 
Realizing  that  fact  I  have  cultivated  modera- 


PHILOSOPHY    OF    TOWNS      329 

tion,  by  falling  madly  in  love  with  every  pretty 
young  woman  I  have  met,  and  with  some  pretty 
old  ones  also.  But  as  one  encounters  a  rapid 
succession  of  pretty  young  women,  the  habit 
of  falling  in  love  with  each  of  them  is  a  se- 
curely protective  agency.  You  see  I  never 
have  time  to  become  idiotically  in  love  with 
one  young  woman  before  meeting  another 
who  knocks  all  that  out  of  my  head.  To-day's 
girl  rescues  me  from  yesterday's.  It's  a  case 
of  one  nail  driving  out  another." 

"  You  are  the  worst  cynic  I  ever  knew, 
Jack." 

"  Perhaps  I  am.  But  I  see  the  boys  are  here 
with  the  horses.  Let's  be  off  and  away,  for- 
getting philosophy  and  girls  and  pessimism 
and  moonlight  and  molasses  candy  for  a  time 
at  least.  Is  that  a  quarter  of  shoat  Cilia  is 
toting  from  the  ice-house  ?  In  verity  it  is,  and 
a  decent  respect  for  its  succulent  attractiveness 
should  prompt  us  to  arm  ourselves  and  meet 
it  with  an  appetite.  So  here  goes  for  a  good 
hard  gallop,  with  stiff  fences  by  the  way." 


XXVIII 

THE    EVENTS    OF    A    DAY 

ONLY  once  had  Westover  been  inter- 
rupted during  his  hours  of  laborious 
and  futile  effort  to  write  his  letter  to 
Colonel  Conway.  Jack  Towns,  being  an  ideal 
guest,  had  occupied  himself  with  books,  strolls, 
and  other  silent  means  of  passing  the  time,  so 
that  his  host  had  been  in  no  way  reminded  of 
his  existence.  But  the  weather  had  not  been 
so  unobtrusive  a  guest.  Considerably  before 
noon  there  came  a  squall  which  for  ten  or  fif- 
teen minutes  threatened  destruction  to  every- 
thing movable  about  the  place.  It  unroofed  a 
cellar  door  at  the  back  of  the  house.  It  car- 
ried away  the  shed  of  a  tobacco  barn,  and 
curiously  enough  one  of  the  cook's  pigs,  which 
she  was  bringing  up  luxuriously  on  "  pot 
liquor  and  kitchen  stuff,"  disappeared  dur- 
330 


THE  EVENTS  OF  A  DAY      331 

ing  the  brief  hurricane.  Whether  the  obese 
porker  was  really  blown  away,  as  most  of 
the  house  servants  stoutly  contended,  or 
whether  it  was  that  some  colored  person 
with  an  appetite  had  simultaneously  seized 
the  opportunity  and  the  pig  and  got  away 
with  both,  was  a  point  never  accurately  deter- 
mined. 

Boyd  Westover  cared  nothing  for  damages 
that  might  be  repaired,  but  he  was  sorely  dis- 
tressed by  the  wreckage  of  a  favorite  mimosa 
tree  that  flourished  near  one  corner  of  the 
porch.  He  even  quitted  his  writing,  when  the 
little  squall  had  passed  away,  and  with  Jack 
Towns's  very  inexpert  assistance,  attempted 
some  repairs.  But  when  there  arose  the  ques- 
tion of  sawing  off  a  broken  limb,  he  abandoned 
the  undertaking,  saying: 

"  We'll  leave  that  till  Carley  Farnsworth 
comes.  He's  due  here  to-day  to  see  some  of 
my  people  who  are  ill.  He's  a  much  better 
horticulturist  than  either  of  us,  Jack,  and  be- 
sides he's  a  surgeon  and  will  know  better  how 
to  give  the  poor  tree  a  chance  to  grow  into 
symmetry  again/' 


332      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

Then,  as  he  sorrowfully  contemplated  the 
torn  and  broken  mimosa,  he  muttered : 

"  I  shouldn't  have  cared  half  so  much  if  the 
squall  had  blown  away  every  barn  I've  got. 
The  ruin  of  that  tree  is  all  that  it  means  to 
me." 

He  little  dreamed  what  other  and  immeas- 
urably greater  consequences  were  to  come  to 
him  as  the  result  of  that  brief  atmospheric  dis- 
turbance, but  he  was  destined,  after  a  time,  to 
find  out. 

When  the  two  friends  returned  from  their 
ride  of  a  dozen  miles  or  so,  bringing  with  them 
a  pair  of  wild  turkey  gobblers  shot  upon  the 
flush,  they  found  Carley  Farnsworth  in  the 
hall,  as  the  broad  passageway  through  a  Vir- 
ginia house  was  called,  very  busily  writing 
upon  small  slips  of  paper,  of  which  he  had  pre- 
pared a  considerable  number  before  beginning 
to  write.  He  was  too  busy  to  give  more  than 
a  scant  greeting  to  his  friends,  but  in  lieu  of 
greater  cordiality  he  handed  one  of  his  written 
slips  to  each,  saying: 

"  Read  that,  and  don't  interrupt  me,  please. 
I'm  expecting  a  messenger  every  moment." 


THE   EVENTS   OF   A  DAY       333 
On  each  of  the  slips  was  written : 

"  I  am  authorized  by  Colonel  Robert  Con- 
way  to  add  his  name  to  the  list  of  those  who 
urge  Mr.  Boyd  Westover's  election. 

"  (Signed)  DON  CARLOS  FARNSWORTH." 

As  Westover  and  Towns  looked  wonder- 
ingly  at  each  other,  after  reading  the  slips, 
Carley  Farnsworth  threw  down  his  pen,  ex- 
claiming : 

"  There !  that's  fifty.    Talk  will  do  the  rest." 

Then,  filling  and  lighting  a  long-stemmed 
pipe,  he  said  to  the  others : 

"  Something  has  happened.  Don't  ask  me 
what  it  is,  for  I  don't  know.  Yonder  comes 
Dick  Ventress,  and  the  slips  are  ready  for  him. 
He  has  a  pot  of  gum  stick'em  in  his  pocket 
and  he's  going  to  paste  those  slips  to  all  the 
nominating  placards  within  twenty  miles  be- 
tween now  and  to-morrow  morning.  They'll 
set  everybody  talking,  and  talk  will  do  the 
rest." 

When  Dick  Ventress  had  received  the  papers 
and  galloped  away,  Carley  vouchsafed  some 


334 


WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 


small  and  exceedingly  unsatisfying  explana- 
tion. 

"  Something  has  happened  at  The  Oaks,'*  he 
said.  "  I  don't  know  what  it  is,  but  when  I 
got  there  to-day  to  attend  Miss  Margaret's 
sick  people,  I  found  everybody  agitated,  Miss 
Betsy  in  something  like  collapse,  and  Colonel 
Conway  littering  up  the  house  with  the  torn 
fragments  of  letters  he'd  been  trying  to  write 
but  couldn't.  I  gave  him  something  to  quiet 
his  nerves,  and  suggested  that  in  his  state  of 
mind  perhaps  literary  endeavors  were  unadvis- 
able.  Presently  he  exclaimed :  '  I'll  arrange 
the  whole  thing.  I'll  write  a  letter  to 
you/ 

"  With  that  he  set  to  work  and  wrote 
this." 

He  offered  a  sheet  of  paper  on  which  was 
written : 

"  DR.  D.  C.  FARNSWORTH. 
"  My  dear  Sir:  — 

"  When  you  asked  me  to  join  you  and  oth- 
ers in  nominating  Mr.  Boyd  Westover  for 
Senator,  I  felt  bound  to  decline,  for  reasons 


THE  EVENTS  OF  A  DAY       335 

which  I  did  not,  because  I  could  not,  offer. 
Through  very  distressing  and  to  me  embar- 
rassing circumstances,  I  now  discover  that  I 
have  been  acting  under  a  misapprehension. 
There  are  peculiar  circumstances  which  forbid 
me  to  explain  myself  further.  I  cannot  do  so 
without  injustice  to  others.  But  so  far  as  Mr. 
Boyd  Westover  is  concerned  I  earnestly  desire 
to  make  such  atonement  as  is  still  possible. 
To  that  end  I  hereby  authorize  you  to  add  my 
name  to  the  list  of  those  who  urge  Mr.  Boyd 
Westover's  election.  You  are  free  to  make 
this  public  in  any  and  every  way  that  may 
seem  to  you  desirable.  If  it  were  possible,  I 
should  myself  announce  it  from  the  platform 
at  Fighting  Creek  to-morrow.  As  it  is  I  au- 
thorize you  to  do  so  in  my  absence.  I  beg 
you  to  use  all  the  influence  you  can  command 
to  spare  me  the  necessity  of  explanation  in 
this  case.  I  cannot  explain.  The  situation  is 
the  most  distressing  one  possible  to  me.  I 
place  it  and  myself  in  your  hands,  and  I  am 
always,  my  dear  Dr.  Farnsworth, 
"  Your  sincere  friend, 

"  ROBERT  CONWAY." 


336     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  There  you  have  the  whole  story,  so  far  as 
I  know  anything  about  it,"  said  the  Doctor. 

"  I  must  say,"  said  Jack  Towns,  "  it  is  a 
very  manly  effort  to  make  reparation  under 
difficulties." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Westover,  "  and  that  is 
characteristic  of  Colonel  Conway.  I'd  gladly 
sacrifice  the  election  in  exchange  for  the  priv- 
ilege of  reading  that  note.  He  is  altogether 
a  man,  and  I  must  meet  his  manliness  as  a 
man.  I'll  write  to  him  at  once." 

"  He  does  not  invite  that,"  said  Jack  Towns. 

"  On  the  contrary  he  forbids  it,"  added 
Carley  Farnsworth,  "  and  I  forbid  it  in  his 
name.  Your  impulse  is  manly  and  generous, 
Boyd,  but  you  see  he  has  asked  me  to  use  all 
the  influence  I  can  to  spare  him  the  necessity 
of  explaining.  A  note  from  you  would  sim- 
ply compel  an  explanation  at  his  hands.  It 
was  to  avoid  that  that  he  tore  up  all  the  letters 
he  tried  to  write  to  you  to-day.  It  is  to  avoid 
that  that  he  doesn't  mount  his  horse  and  ride 
over  here  to  shake  hands  with  you  and  tell 
you  about  this  thing,  whatever  it  is.  It  is  to 
avoid  that  that  he  is  going  to  absent  himself 


THE   EVENTS   OF  A  DAY       337 

from  the  meeting  at  Fighting  Creek  to-mor- 
row, leaving  me  to  announce  his  change  of 
mind  in  his  stead.  What  do  you  think,  Jack  ?  " 

"  Oh,  there's  only  one  thing  to  think.  Un- 
til Colonel  Conway  shall  see  fit  to  open  direct 
communication  with  Westover  of  Wanalah,  it 
will  be  an  extreme  and  unpardonable  imper- 
tinence for  Westover  of  Wanalah  to  address 
any  personal  communication  to  him.  Circum- 
stances forbid  it.  Courtesy  forbids  it.  Con- 
sideration, conscience,  common  sense,  conve- 
nience, convention,  custom,  —  everything  that 
begins  with  a  '  c  '  or  with  any  other  letter  of 
the  alphabet,  —  forbids  it." 

"  I  suppose  you  two  are  right,"  answered 
Westover,  "  but  to  a  man  of  my  temperament 
it  seems  an  ungracious  thing  not  to  recognize 
in  some  personal  way  the  courtesy  Colonel 
Conway  has  shown  me.  My  impulse  is  to 
write  to  him  and  thank  him." 

"  Well,  under  the  circumstances  you 
mustn't,"  said  Carley  Farnsworth,  "  and 
you're  lucky,  Boyd,  to  have  sane  friends  to 
advise  and  control  you." 

"  I  reckon  I  am.     But  really,  Carley,  what 


338     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

do   you   suppose  has  happened   over  at   The 
Oaks?" 

"  I  am  doing  no  supposing.  It  may  be  any- 
thing or  nothing.  We  Virginians  —  all  but 
Jack  Towns  and  me  —  are  so  emotional,  so 
sentimental,  so  chivalric  if  you  prefer  the  term, 
that  I  long  ago  ceased  my  efforts  to  make  a 
diagnosis  of  things  of  that  sort.  I  only  know 
that  the  Colonel  is  wrought  up  to  a  pitch  that 
requires  the  remedy  of  going  to  bed,  and  that 
everybody  else  at  The  Oaks  is  correspondingly 
wrought  up.  Everybody  except  that  thor- 
oughly admirable  Boston  girl,  Miss  Danvers. 
She  has  a  head,  and  she  keeps  it  poised  above 
her  shoulders.  If  I  hadn't  an  entirely  satis- 
factory wife  of  my  own  in  prospect,  though 
not  yet  in  possession,  I  should  be  strongly 
tempted  to  persuade  that  girl  to  stay  south 
of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line.  As  it  is,  I  really 
think  some  other  fellow  ought  to  do  that  as 
a  service  to  Virginia  society.  Miss  Danvers 
is  a  true  blue,  a  thoroughbred.  She  has  char- 
acter, manners,  breeding,  beauty,  simplicity, 
honesty,  sincerity,  loyalty,  good  sense,  and  all 
the  other  qualities  that  go  to  make  a  woman 


THE   EVENTS   OF   A  DAY       339 

admirable.  She  is  the  only  person  who  knows 
what  the  ruction  over  at  The  Oaks  was,  and 
she's  the  only  one  there  capable  of  handling 
the  situation  sanely.  She  seems  to  have  every- 
body there  well  in  hand,  and  to  be  controlling 
all  of  them  wisely.  She  has  a  persuasive  gift 
that  astonished  me  when  she  actually  got  Colo- 
nel Conway  to  go  to  bed  in  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon,  and  induced  Margaret  to  do  the 
same  thing  as  a  precaution  against  a  nervous 
breakdown  that  was  clearly  threatened.  I  had 
ordered  both  those  goings  to  bed,  with  all  the 
authority  of  a  medical  adviser,  but  to  no  pur- 
pose. When  I  spoke  to  that  Boston  girl  about 
it,  she  answered  gently  but  confidently :  '  If 
you  think  that  advisable,  Doctor,  I  will  see 
that  it  is  done,'  and  by  Jove  she  did  the  trick 
so  promptly  that  before  I  left  I  saw  them  both 
in  bed,  and  gave  each  of  them  a  sleeping  po- 
tion that  will  keep  them  quiet  for  many  hours 
to  come." 

Under  ordinary  circumstances,  Jack  Towns 
would  have  declared  his  purpose  to  go  over 
to  The  Oaks  at  once  and  make  love  to  the 
Boston  girl.  For  some  reason,  on  this  occa- 


340 


WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 


sion,  he  shrank  from  all  jesting.  He  had 
talked  for  an  hour  with  Millicent  Danvers  on 
the  evening  before.  He  wanted  now  to  talk 
with  her  for  another  hour,  but,  contrary  to 
his  custom,  he  said  nothing  of  his  purpose. 
He  went  to  dinner  with  the  other  two,  and 
after  the  dinner  was  done  he  slipped  away  to 
the  stables,  mounted  the  superb  mare  that  was 
now  his,  and  rode  away  to  The  Oaks. 


XXIX 


THE    WORK    OF    A    WILD    WIND 

HIS  is  the  story  of  what  the  wind- 
storm did  at  The  Oaks,  to  disturb  the 


T 

usual  placidity  of  life  there. 

It  was  Aunt  Betsy's  custom,  as  it  was  that 
of  many  or  most  other  women  in  Virginia,  to 
write  a  multitude  of  "  notes  "  each  day,  some 
of  them  filling  six  or  eight  sheets  of  paper, 
with  criss-crossings  to  make  them  seem  unde- 
cipherably  interesting,  and  to  despatch  them  by 
young  negroes  on  bare-backed  horses  to  their 
more  or  less  neighborly  destination.  A  sta- 
tistical economist  once  made  a  careful  reckon- 
ing by  which  he  convinced  himself  that  this 
practice  cost  the  planter  families  of  Virginia 
about  seven  and  one-half  times  the  amount 
they  contributed  in  stamps  to  the  postal  rev- 
enues of  the  nation. 

It  was  the  practice  of  the  young  women 
341 


342     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

of  the  plantations  to  write  all  these  letters 
before  breakfast.  It  was  Aunt  Betsy's  more 
leisurely  practice  to  write  them  whenever  she 
pleased,  and  she  usually  pleased  to  write  them 
between  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  the 
one  o'clock  hour  that  was  sacred  to  the  lunch- 
eon known  in  Virginia  as  "  snack." 

On  the  morning  of  the  happening  at  The 
Oaks,  the  day  being  sufficiently  warm,  Aunt 
Betsy  brought  out  her  desk  —  an  oblong  box 
which  when  opened  offered  a  slanting  writing 
surface,  with  spaces  below  its  lids  for  letter 
paper,  envelopes,  and  papers  of  every  kind. 
Women  usually  laid  these  so-called  "  desks  " 
upon  their  laps  and  managed  somehow  to  write 
there,  as  no  man  ever  could  have  done.  But 
it  was  Aunt  Betsy's  habit  also  to  retire  into  the 
house  now  and  then  upon  occasions  of  real  or 
imagined  necessity,  and  in  anticipation  of  such 
interruptions  she  always  had  a  slender-legged 
stand  at  hand  —  a  thing  "  drunkenly  artistic," 
as  Boyd  Westover  had  once  said  —  upon 
which  to  place  her  desk  whenever  she  was 
minded  to  suspend  her  writing  for  a  while. 

On  the  morning  in  question  she  had  a  gown 


WITH  THE  FIRST  ONSET  OF  THE  WIND. — Page  343, 


WORK  OF  A  WILD  WIND 


343 


in  course  of  construction  by  her  seamstresses, 
who  were  working  in  the  back  porch  with  a 
room  opening  off  it  which  her  modesty  used 
for  purposes  of  "  fitting  "  and  "  trying  on." 

She  had  therefore  frequent  occasion  to  sus- 
pend her  writing. 

It  was  during  one  of  her  most  exigent  fits 
of  trying  on  that  the  squall  struck  the  place. 
As  a  good  deal  of  thunder  and  lightning  ac- 
companied the  weather  disturbance,  and  as 
Aunt  Betsy  was  possessed  of  that  sort  of  cow- 
ardice concerning  thunder  and  lightning  which 
persons  so  afflicted  call  "  nervousness,"  she 
promptly  shut  herself  up  in  a  dark  closet  and 
remained  there  until  the  squall  had  passed 
away. 

But  with  the  first  onset  of  the  wind  the 
frail  table  on  which  she  had  left  her  open  desk 
toppled  over;  the  desk  was  whirled  out  into 
the  grounds  and  dashed  against  a  tree  with  a 
force  that  instantly  reduced  it  to  splinters, 
while  its  contents  —  correspondence  and  curl 
papers  alike  —  were  scattered,  if  not  to  the 
four  winds,  at  least  to  the  one  wind  which  was 
blowing  with  demoniacal  fury. 


344 


WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 


Margaret  and  Millicent  who  had  just  re- 
turned from  a  morning  stroll  rushed  fran- 
tically, picturesquely  and,  in  an  unconscious 
way,  gracefully,  to  the  rescue.  The  desk 
was  in  fragments  and  far  past  praying  for; 
but  by  a  deal  of  scurrying  the  two  girls  and 
some  of  the  house  servants  managed  to  collect 
the  scattered  papers  and  place  them  upon  a 
table  within,  while  Aunt  Betsy  was  still  en- 
sconced in  her  dark  closet,  waiting  for  the  last 
rumble  of  the  thunder  to  cease.  As  Millicent 
deposited  her  share  of  the  spoils  upon  the 
table,  she  looked  at  Margaret  with  frightened 
eyes  and  said : 

"  Please  send  everybody  out  of  the  room 
but  you  and  me/' 

For  Millicent  had  not  yet  accustomed  her- 
self to  talk  freely  in  the  presence  of  servants 
as  if  they  were  deaf,  dumb,  and  blind,  incapa- 
ble of  understanding  what  might  be  said  in 
their  presence  and  therefore  incapable  of  re- 
peating it.  That  habit  of  the  Virginians  had 
its  origin  probably  in  two  facts :  they  never 
said  anything  that  they  were  afraid  to  stand 
by;  and  the  negro  was  not,  in  law  or  in  fact, 


WORK  OF  A  WILD   WIND      345 

permitted  to  testify  against  a  white  person.  In 
the  courts  his  testimony  was  barred  by  statute ; 
in  social  life  it  was  even  more  absolutely 
barred  by  convention.  No  negro  ventured  to 
report  anything  he  had  heard  white  people 
say,  and  if  he  had  done  so,  no  white  person 
would  for  one  moment  have  listened  to  him. 
To  have  done  that  would  have  been  to  invite 
and  incur  absolute  and  eternal  ostracism. 

But  Millicent,  brought  up  in  a  totally  dif- 
ferent atmosphere,  could  never  accustom  her- 
self to  this,  and  so  she  asked  to  have  the  serv- 
ants dismissed  from  the  room  before  saying 
what  she  had  to  say  about  the  papers  in  her 
hand.  Margaret  smiled  at  the  request,  but 
after  the  revelation  was  made  she  rejoiced 
that  it  had  been  preferred  and  acted  upon. 

When  the  servants  had  left  the  room,  Milli- 
cent held  out  a  handful  of  letters  that  she  had 
picked  up  in  the  wild  scramble  of  rescue. 

"  There  is  something  wrong  here,  Mar- 
garet," she  said  in  her  open,  honest  way. 
"  Some  of  these  are  unopened  letters  ad- 
dressed to  you  —  letters  that  bear  stamps  and 
post  marks,  letters  that  have  come  through  the 


346     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

mail.  These  others  are  sealed  letters  ad- 
dressed in  your  handwriting  to  Mr.  Boyd 
Westover.  They  are  stamped,  but  they  bear 
no  postmarks.  They  have  never  been  mailed." 

She  stood  silent  for  a  moment,  rigid  with 
an  indignation  that  she  knew  not  how  to  ex- 
press in  words. 

Meanwhile  Margaret  stood  looking  at  the 
letters,  dazed,  pale  to  the  lips,  paralyzed.  Then 
she  looked  from  the  letters  to  Millicent  and 
the  girl  thought  she  was  dying  or  already  dead, 
so  white  was  her  face  at  first  and  so  livid  a 
moment  later. 

With  the  womanly  instinct  of  ministry,  re- 
inforced by  a  passionate  impulse  of  friendship, 
Millicent  passed  around  the  table,  threw  her 
arm  about  the  stricken  girl  and  gently  forced 
her  to  lie  upon  one  of  the  broad  lounges  or 
settees,  or  whatever  else  they  should  be  called, 
that  in  those  days  invited  repose  in  every 
dining  room  and  every  hallway  of  the  planta- 
tion houses. 

With  that  ready  appreciation  of  necessity 
which  is  characteristic  of  womanhood,  she 
went  to  the  sideboard,  poured  a  thimble  glass 


WORK   OF  A  WILD  WIND      347 

of  sherry  and  compelled  Margaret  to  drink 
it.  Then  she  tinkled  a  bell  and  when  the  serv- 
ant appeared  gave  quick,  concise  orders  for  the 
summoning  of  Margaret's  maid  and  other 
strong-armed  servitors. 

"  You  must  get  your  mistress  to  bed  at 
once,"  she  commanded,  "  and  send  some  one 
to  summon  Dr.  Farnsworth  quickly.  He's  at 
the  lower  quarters." 

But  Margaret,  rising  to  a  sitting  position, 
promptly  negatived  all  this.  Sustained  by 
wrath,  indignation,  resentment  of  insult,  and 
by  outraged  pride,  she  forced  upon  herself  the 
calm  control  that  for  the  moment  she  had  lost, 
though  only  for  the  moment.  With  that  in- 
stinct of  race,  that  courage,  that  self-mastery 
that  had  been  always  a  precious  possession 
of  the  Conways,  she  dismissed  the  superfluous 
servants  who  had  hastened  to  her  upon  hearing 
that  she  was  in  trouble,  and  assumed  control 
of  the  situation. 

"  Thank  you,  Millicent,  dear,  for  bringing 
those  letters  to  me.  They  are  mine,  and  I 
will  dispose  of  them.  Diana,  bring  me  my 
desk,  please." 


348      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

When  the  desk  was  placed  before. her  she 
selected  a  sheet  of  paper  and  an  envelope  as 
calmly  as  if  she  had  meant  to  send  a  note  to 
Hallie  Harvey  or  any  other  girl  friend,  asking 
her  for  the  proper  count  of  stitches  in  a  piece 
of  fancy  knitting  work. 

Then  she  wrote  upon  the  sheet  of  paper, 
this  note: 

"  AUNT  BETSY  :  —  Your  desk  was  blown 
out  into  the  grounds  and  wrecked,  during  the 
squall.  We  have  gathered  up  the  fragments 
of  the  desk  and  rescued  all  the  widely  scat- 
tered papers.  I  am  sending  you  all  of  them 
that  in  any  way  belong  to  you.  Those  that 
belong  to  me  I  am  keeping.  I  send  you  this 
note,  instead  of  seeing  you  in  person,  because 
your  maid  tells  me  you  have  gone  to  bed. 

"  MARGARET." 

She  sent  the  note,  sealed,  by  the  hand  of 
a  maid,  and  she  sent  with  it  the  entire  paper 
contents  of  the  wrecked  desk,  except  the  un- 
opened letters  of  Boyd  Westover  to  herself 
and  her  own  unopened  letters  to  him.  These 


WORK  OF  A  WILD  WIND      349 

she  gathered  together  into  a  bundle  which  she 
thrust  into  her  corsage. 

Then  she  turned  to  a  servant  and  gave  the 
order : 

"  Send  to  the  stables  for  saddle  horses  for 
your  Miss  Millicent  and  me.  We  are  going 
for  a  ride." 

To  Millicent  she  said  under  her  breath : 
"  You  must  go  with  me,  dear.  I  must  control 
myself  or  I  shall  not  be  able  to  carry  this  thing 
through  to  the  end  with  dignity.  I  must  have 
a  dash  on  horseback.  You  don't  mind,  do  you, 
dear?" 

"Mind?  I  mind,  Margaret?  Why,  you 
know  that  I  would  ride  to  the  ends  of  the  earth 
with  you  and  for  you,  even  under  ordinary 
circumstances.  Now  that  you're  in  trouble, 
of  course  I  am  ready.  I  don't  know  the  facts 
—  though  I  guess  some  of  them  —  and  I  don't 
understand  all  that  these  things  mean,  but  I 
know  you  have  been  wronged,  outraged, 
placed  in  a  false  position,  humiliated  by  some 
trespass  upon  your  privacy  or  your  personal- 
ity, and  I  am  here  to  stand  by  you  till  the 
wrong  is  righted,  the  outrage  undone,  and  the 


350     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

humiliation  lifted  from  your  spirit.  I'll  do 
anything,  everything  —  oh,  Margaret,  you 
don't  know  how  I  love  you  or  how  eager  I 
am  to  help  you !  " 

Margaret  looked  at  her  with  loving  and 
teary  eyes.  Presently  she  said : 

"  I  know  it  all,  dear.  And  yet  you  Yankees 
are  supposed  to  be  cold  and  calculating  and 
hard.  How  utterly  mistaken  people  are  in 
their  judgments !  But  here  are  the  horses. 
We'll  have  a  spin,  and  then  —  " 

She  paused  as  if  in  doubt  and  apprehension. 
Presently  she  added : 

"  And  then  I  must  confront  my  father.  He 
is  the  proper  person  and  he  must  set  this  thing 
right." 

After  a  brisk  gallop  of  half  a  mile,  Mar- 
garet reined  her  horse  down  to  a  walk,  and 
entered  into  conversation  with  her  friend. 

"  I  feel,  Millicent,"  she  began,  "  that  I  ought 
to  take  you  completely  into  my  confidence,  and 
tell  you  all  that  this  thing  means.  Your  loy- 
alty and  your  affection  deserve  that.  But 
there  are  reasons  which  I  cannot  explain  that 
forbid  so  full  a  confidence.  I  am  going  to 


WORK  OF  A  WILD  WIND 


351 


tell  you  all  I  can,  and  I  want  you  to  believe 
and  know  that  whatever  reserves  I  practise  are 
practised  solely  for  your  sake." 

"  But  how  can  that  be,  Margaret  ?  Of 
course  you  are  to  tell  me  as  much  or  as  little 
as  you  please,  but  —  " 

"  I  see.  I  can't  explain.  I  can  only  sa>/ 
that  if  I  practise  reserve  at  all,  it  is  only  be- 
cause of  my  tender  affection  for  you.  Can 
you  believe  that  blindly,  without  explanation? 
And  will  you?  " 

"  I  believe  whatever  you  tell  me,  Margaret, 
and  I  do  not  wish  to  hear  anything  that  for 
any  reason  you  do  not  wish  me  to  hear." 

"  Thank  you,  dear,"  said  the  agitated  girl 
as  she  again  pressed  her  horse  to  his  paces; 
"  God  help  me  if  I'm  wrong !  " 

There  was  so  strong  a  suggestion  of  trag- 
edy in  the  girl's  tone  that  Millicent  felt  herself 
called  upon  to  interfere  with  Margaret's  pur- 
pose, which  she  instinctively  understood  and 
which  seemed  to  her  scarcely  less  than  suicidal. 
She  said  nothing  so  long  as  the  horses  were 
moving  swiftly.  When  they  resumed  the  walk, 
she  turned  to  her  companion  and  asked : 


352      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  Do  you  believe  in  my  friendship,  Mar- 
garet, and  do  you  trust  its  loyalty  so  far  as  to 
forgive  an  impertinence  in  its  behalf?  " 

"  I  certainly  do,  Millicent.  I  could 
never  —  " 

"  Listen,  then,  and  don't  interrupt.  I  know 
far  more  about  this  matter  than  anybody  has 
ever  told  me.  My  woman's  instinct  has  in- 
structed me.  It  may  be  in  error  as  to  details, 
but  I  am  right  as  to  the  essentials,  and  in  such 
a  case  it  is  the  essentials  alone  that  need  be 
considered.  I'll  tell  you  the  story  of  the  situ- 
ation as  I  understand  it.  You  are  not  a  woman 
to  love  lightly,  or  lightly  to  forget." 

Margaret  well  nigh  fell  from  her  horse  as 
she  heard  her  own  passionately  uttered  words 
thus  repeated  in  merely  explanatory  fashion, 
but  in  a  moment  she  realized  that  this  was 
purely  a  coincidence.  Millicent  had  chosen  the 
words  for  herself;  she  could  not  have  heard 
them  as  a  quotation. 

ff  There  may  be  many  fancies  to  a  woman 
like  you,  but  there  can  be  only  one  passionate, 
self-giving,  all-surrendering  love.  It  is  com- 
monly said  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  self- 


WORK  OF  A  WILD   WIND      353 

sacrificing  loyalty  or  friendship  between  women 
—  that  while  we  may  heroically  sacrifice  our- 
selves for  the  love  of  a  man  we  never  sac- 
rifice that  love  in  loyalty  to  a  woman.  It  is 
a  slander  on  our  sex.  I  accepted  it  as  true 
until  very  recently ;  indeed  I  saw  many  things 
to  confirm  it.  I  know  better  now." 

She  paused  for  a  considerable  time,  but 
Margaret  did  not  prompt  her  to  go  on.  Per- 
haps she  foresaw  what  was  coming,  and  at 
any  rate  she  saw  clearly  that  there  was  strug- 
gle and  disturbance  in  Millicent's  mind. 

After  awhile  the  girl  resumed : 

4  The  one  love  of  your  life,  Margaret,  is 
for  Mr.  Boyd  Westover.  It  began  long  be- 
fore you  knew  it  and  it  will  last  as  long  as 
you  live.  Now  I  am  going  to  make  a  shame- 
ful confession,"  she  added.  Then  she  broke 
into  a  gallop,  but  when  the  horses  resumed 
a  moderate  pace  she  did  not  make  the  con- 
fession. Perhaps  she  shrank  from  it.  Perhaps 
she  deemed  it  unnecessary.  Perhaps  she 
thought  its  making  might  tend  rather  to  com- 
plicate than  to  simplify  the  problems  in  hand. 
However  that  may  be,  she  made  no  further 


354     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

reference  to  the  matter,  but  took  up  her  para- 
ble where  she  had  laid  it  down. 

"  Something,  I  don't  know  what  —  yes,  I 
do,  but  I  don't  know  why  —  has  come  between 
you  and  Mr.  Boyd  Westover.  I  am  not  blind, 
and  I  think  I  am  not  stupid.  There  were 
unopened  letters  there  from  him  to  you,  and 
other  unopened  letters  from  you  to  him.  With- 
out asking  anybody  any  questions  I  know  that 
for  some  reason  somebody  has  sought  to  cut 
off  communication  between  him  and  you.  I 
see  clearly  that  that  purpose  has  been  accom- 
plished, and  I  see  that  as  a  consequence  he 
has  been  thinking  you  fickle  and  treacher- 
ous, as  women  so  often  are,  and  you  have 
been  thinking  him  disloyal  and  dishonor- 
able." 

"  No,  no,  no,"  interrupted  Margaret.  "  I 
have  never  accused  him  of  disloyalty  or  dis- 
honor, even  in  my  wildest  moments  of  per- 
plexity and  distress.  I  have  never  for  one 
moment  doubted  his  honor.  It  is  only  that 
I  have  been  unable  to  conjecture  why  he  left 
me  in  silence,  when  in  fact  he  was  writing 
great,  manly,  loving  letters  to  me  every  day. 


WORK  OF  A  WILD  WIND      355 

Oh,  Millicent,  it  was  cruel,  and  I  can  never 
forgive  —  " 

She  did  not  need  mention  the  name. 

"  You  haven't  read  Mr.  Westover's  un- 
opened letters,"  suggested  Millicent. 

"  No,  I  have  no  right  now.  They  were 
written  in  the  past,  when  he  loved  and  trusted 
me.  He,  might  not  wish  me  to  read  them  now. 
He  might  not  feel  in  the  same  way  toward  me 
now  that  he  did  then." 

"  That's  stuff  and  nonsense,  I  think,  Mar- 
garet. I  really  do.  If  I  were  you  I  should  read 
the  letters  carefully.  Then  I  should  sit  down 
and  write  to  Mr.  Boyd  Westover,  enclosing 
the  letters  you  wrote  to  him  at  that  time  and 
explaining  how  all  the  trouble  had  come 
about." 

"  That  would  never,  never  do.  It  would 
be  throwing  myself  like  a  cast-off  garment  at 
his  feet.  It  would  be  asking  him  to  renew 
relations  that  he  may  have  been  glad  to  for- 
get." 

"  You  say  that,  Margaret,  but  you  don't  be- 
lieve it.  Neither  do  I." 

"  I  think,   Millicent,  you  don't  understand 


356     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

our  conventionalities  down  here.  It  would  be 
impossible  for  any  Virginia  girl,  under  such 
circumstances,  to  take  the  initiative  in  reopen- 
ing relations.  That  is  the  prerogative  of  the 
gentleman  in  the  case." 

"  But  when  the  gentleman  doesn't  know  the 
facts,  and  the  woman  does,  what  then?  " 

"  That  makes  no  possible  difference." 

"  You  are  right  on  one  point,  Margaret.  I 
do  not  understand  your  conventions,  nor  do  I 
in  the  least  sympathize  with  them.  They  are 
shams  and  falsities,  as  all  conventionalities  are, 
and  they  are  cruel  beyond  measure.  They 
decree  that  where  a  mistake  has  been  made 
and  the  woman  discovers  it,  she  must  let  wreck 
and  ruin  overwhelm  two  lives  —  her  own  and 
that  of  the  man  she  loves  —  rather  than  send 
to  him  .a  simple  and  easy  explanation  of  the 
mistake  that  has  made  the  trouble.  No,  I  do 
not  understand  such  conventions.  What  are 
you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  I'll  place  the  whole  thing  in  my  father's 
hands,  and  he  shall  do  what  he  will  with  it." 

"  And  as  to  the  one  who  has  wrought  all 
this  mischief?" 


WORK   OF   A   WILD   WIND 


357 


"  My  relations  with  my  Aunt  Betsy  will  be 
changed.  Come!  We  must  hurry  back  to 
the  house.  I  want  my  father  to  know  what 
has  happened." 

They  trotted  on  for  a  space,  when  suddenly 
Millicent  reined  in  her  horse  and  Margaret 
stopped  in  company,  for  Millicent  had  come  to 
a  complete  halt  in  the  roadway.  For  a  mo- 
ment the  two  confronted  each  other  without 
a  word,  for  Millicent,  sitting  on  her  horse  with 
compressed  lips  and  set  jaw,  did  not  at  first 
explain  herself.  After  a  while  she  said : 

"  I  cannot  sit  idly  by  and  see  two  glorious 
young  lives  wrecked  when  a  next  to  nothing 
would  save  both.  I  am  a  Yankee,  of  Boston, 
but  so  was  Paul  Revere.  Let  me  have  those 
letters.  Ask  me  no  questions,  but  let  me  ride 
as  Paul  Revere  did !  " 

For  a  moment  Margaret  hesitated.  The 
temptation  was  very  great,  but  she  put  it 
aside. 

"  That  would  never  do,  Millicent,"  she  said. 
"  I  understand  your  loving  loyalty  and  I  am 
grateful  for  it,  but  that  would  never  do.  To 
Mr.  Westover  you  would  be  my  emissary,  no 


358     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

matter  what  you  might  say.  It  would  be  the 
same  as  if  I  went  to  him  myself." 

"  Is  your  decision  final,  or  may  I  argue  the 
matter?"  Millicent  asked. 

"  It  is  final,"  Margaret  answered,  and  not 
another  word  was  spoken  during  the  remain- 
der of  the  homeward  journey. 


XXX 

WHAT    HAD    HAPPENED   AT    THE    OAKS 

THAT  little  jaunt  on  horseback  that 
Margaret,  with  her  friend,  took  by 
way  of  steadying  her  nerves,   was 
perhaps  a  mistake.     If  she  had  gone  to  her 
father    at    once,    while    "  Aunt    Betsy "    was 
making  herself  comfortable  in  bed,  the  impul- 
sive old  gentleman  would  have  been  off  on 
a  journey  to  Wanalah  within  five  minutes,  and 
his    intent   to    explain    and   make   reparation 
would  have  accomplished  its  purpose  instantly. 
But  Margaret  went  riding  instead,  and  no 
sooner  did  "  Aunt  Betsy  "  learn  of  the  fact 
than  she  made  a  quick  recovery  from  her  ill- 
ness, and  almost  before  the  two  young  women 
were  out  of  sight  of  the  house,  "  Aunt  Betsy," 
tearful  and  in  every  other  way  appealing,  was 
closeted    with    Colonel    Conway.      She    thus 
359 


360     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

gained  the  distinct  advantage  of  being  first  on 
the  ground.  Her  tears  and  her  agitation  ap- 
pealed strongly  to  the  protective  instinct  of 
the  chivalric  old  soldier.  She  told  him  in  her 
own  way  what  had  happened,  diverting  his 
attention  from  her  own  misconduct  by  lamen- 
tations and  copious  weepings  and  protestations 
that  in  all  she  had  done  she  had  sought  only 
to  protect  the  honor  and  dignity  of  the  family 
and  to  prevent  Margaret  — "  an  unformed 
girl  "  —  from  compromising  herself  in  her  ig- 
norance of  the  world. 

It  would  be  too  much  to  say  that  she  con- 
vinced her  brother  of  the  righteousness  of  her 
conduct.  Tampering  with  letters  —  even 
without  reading  them  —  was  to  him  a  point 
of  special  sensitiveness,  and  there  were  other 
matters  involved  which  he  could  in  no  wise 
reconcile  with  his  conceptions  of  honorable 
conduct.  But  he  recognized  the  weakness  of 
women  as  a  palliation  of  misconduct,  and  his 
sister's  tearful  appeals  to  him  for  the  protec- 
tion of  her  dignity  affected  him  in  the  tender- 
est  part  of  his  nature. 

He  was  profoundly  displeased  with  her,  but 


AT    THE    OAKS  361 

she  was  his  sister,  nevertheless,  and  he  was 
her  natural  protector.  It  was  his  duty  and  his 
desire  to  spare  her,  so  far  as  might  be  possible, 
but  he  felt  also  the  obligation  to  censure  and 
correct  her. 

"  You  have  done  a  gravely  improper  thing, 
Betsy,"  he  said,  with  sternness  and  tenderness 
struggling  for  mastery  in  his  tone.  "  Indeed 
what  you  have  done  is  unpardonable,  inex- 
cusable, —  except  that  as  a  woman  you  did  not 
know  the  enormity  of  your  act." 

"  That  is  the  main  point,  Robert,"  she  in- 
terrupted, "  and  I  beg  you  to  bear  it  in  mind. 
All  I  did  was  done  with  good  intentions.  I 
am  naturally  solicitous  for  the  honor  of  our 
family,  and  I  —  " 

"  And  you  did  a  dishonorable  thing  in  that 
behalf,"  he  said  with  severity  in  his  tone. 
"  In  your  desire  to  protect  the  family 
name  you  did  a  thing  that  would  forever 
subject  it  to  shame,  if  it  should  become 
known." 

"That  is  it,  Robert.  It  mustn't  become 
known.  I  depend  upon  you,  as  the  head  of 
the  family,  to  prevent  that.  Blame  me  as 


362      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

severely  as  you  will,  but  don't  expose  me,  don't 
subject  me  to  criticism  and  scorn!  Oh,  Rob- 
ert, I  beg  you  to  protect  me !  " 

"  I'll  protect  you  of  course,"  he  replied, 
"  but  you  have  made  it  difficult  and  exceed- 
ingly embarrassing  for  me  to  do  so.  I  have 
my  own  conscience  to  reckon  with.  You  have 
made  me  do  things,  in  ignorance  of  the  facts 
—  I  may  as  well  be  frank  and  say  you  have 
deliberately  deceived  me  into  the  doing  of 
wrongs  for  which  I  know  not  how  to  atone 
or  even  apologize.  If  you  were  not  my  sister, 
if  you  were  not  under  my  protection,  if  I 
could  be  indifferent  to  your  feelings  —  my 
course  would  be  simple  and  easy.  A  frank, 
manly  statement  of  the  facts  would  exorierate 
me.  As  it  is  —  " 

"  As  it  is,  Robert,  you  cannot  subject  your 
sister  to  humiliation.  You  must  protect  me 
from  shame.  You  must  take  pains  that  what 
has  happened  shall  never  be  known  outside 
this  house !  " 

It  was  at  this  stage  of  the  conversation  that 
Margaret  entered.  "  Aunt  Betsy,"  confident 
that  she  had  secured  herself,  said : 


AT    THE    OAKS  363 

"  I  will  leave  you  to  talk  with  your  father, 
Margaret,  if  you  desire." 

"  No,"  the  young  woman  answered ;  "  I 
prefer  that  you  should  remain.  I,  at  least, 
have  nothing  to  conceal,  and  I  do  not  seek,  as 
you  do,  to  get  my  father's  ear  in  private.  Be- 
sides, I  have  some  things  to  say  to  you,  and  I 
prefer  to  say  them  in  my  father's  presence.  I 
am  mistress  of  The  Oaks.  Hitherto,  out  of  a 
respect  which  you  have  not  justified,  I  have 
permitted  you  to  exercise  certain  functions 
that  belong  to  me.  I  shall  do  so  no  longer. 
I  have  given  directions  that  hereafter  I  will 
make  up  the  outgoing  mail  bag  and  open  the 
incoming  one." 

"  But,  my  dear  child  —  " 

"  I  am  not  a  child,  Aunt  Betsy.  You  have 
made  some  grievous  mistakes  in  forgetfulness 
of  that  fact.  It  shall  not  be  forgotten  again 
while  I  remain  mistress  of  this  plantation. 
What  was  it  you  were  going  to  say,  Aunt 
Betsy?  I  beg  pardon  for  interrupting,  but  it 
seemed  necessary." 

"  I  was  going  to  ask  what  the  servants  will 
think." 


364     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  I  do  not  know  what  they  will  think,  Aunt 
Betsy." 

"  On  that  point  I  must  appeal  to  your  fa- 
ther," "  Aunt  Betsy  "  replied. 

"  On  that  point  it  is  very  dangerous  for  you 
to  appeal,"  answered  the  younger  woman,  still 
preserving  an  extraordinary  calm  that  was  at 
once  astonishing  and  alarming  to  her  aunt, 
but  speaking  with  a  degree  of  emphasis  that 
suggested  something  behind  the  words. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  Explain  yourself," 
said  "  Aunt  Betsy,"  in  that  authoritative  tone 
which  she  had  all  her  life  employed  in  address- 
ing her  niece. 

"  I  will  explain  if  you  wish,"  Margaret  an- 
swered ;  "  but  I'd  rather  spare  you  the  ex- 
planation." 

"  I  insist  upon  knowing  what  you  mean," 
the  elder  woman  unwisely  replied. 

"  Very  well,  then ;  you  shall  hear.  In  addi- 
tion to  the  wrong  you  have  done  me,  wrecking 
my  life  and  placing  me  in  a  grievously  false 
position;  in  addition  to  the  wrong  you  have 
done  to  another,  you  have  been  guilty  of  the 
crime  of  robbing  the  United  States  mails, 


AT    THE    OAKS  365 

Aunt  Betsy,  and  as  the  minimum  penalty  of 
that  crime  is  a  long  term  in  prison,  I  do  not 
think  it  wise  of  you  to  suggest  appeals  in  this 
case.  It  will  be  better,  I  think,  to  accept  my 
decision  as  final." 

The  old  lady  rose  in  wrath,  alarm,  indig- 
nation and  all  the  other  emotions  of  an  exci- 
ting sort,  and  demanded  to  know  what  her 
niece  meant  by  such  an  accusation  of  infamy. 
At  the  same  time  Colonel  Conway  exclaimed : 

"  Oh,  daughter,  daughter,  you  do  not  mean 
what  you  say.  Take  it  back!  You  are  ex- 
cited. You  are  beside  yourself !  " 

"  I  am  not  in  the  least  excited,"  the  young 
woman  answered.  "  I  did  not  wish  or  intend 
to  mention  that  aspect  of  the  matter,  but  Aunt 
Betsy  insisted  upon  it.  I  have  no  desire  to 
emphasize  it  or  to  insist  upon  it,  if  only  my 
authority  as  mistress  at  The  Oaks  is  properly 
recognized.  As  your  daughter,  Father,  I  am 
entitled  to  that  dignity  which  you  yourself 
have  been  fond  of  insisting  upon ;  and  as  your 
daughter  I  intend  to  exercise  the  authority  and 
maintain  the  dignity  of  that  position  so  long 
as  you  permit  me  to  hold  it.  When  you  cease 


366     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

to  permit  that,  I  shall  leave  The  Oaks  and  go 
to  my  own  plantation  of  Tye,  which  my 
mother  left  me.  You  must  remember  that  I 
am  a  grown  woman  of  twenty-one,  and  that 
I  am  not  a  dependent  upon  anybody." 

"  Now,  daughter,"  interrupted  Colonel  Con- 
way  with  affection,  "  you  are  talking  nonsense. 
You  know  that  you  are  mistress  of  The  Oaks, 
and  —  " 

"  That  is  quite  all  I  am  insisting  upon.  As 
mistress  of  The  Oaks  I  do  not  intend  to  have 
my  authority  questioned  or  my  affairs  inter- 
fered with  by  anybody.  I'm  sorry  I  have  this 
occasion  to  assert  myself,  but  the  circumstances 
are  not  of  my  making." 

"  But  what  do  you  mean,  you  —  you  —  you 
ill-regulated  girl,  —  in  charging  me  with  a 
crime  ?  "  almost  shrieked  the  elder  woman  as 
she  confronted  her  niece  in  an  attitude  that 
suggested  a  desire  to  shake  her.  "What  do 
you  mean  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  You'd  better  let  that  phase  of  the  affair 
drop,  Aunt  Betsy,"  answered  the  girl  with  a 
calm  that  additionally  exasperated  her  aunt. 

"  No,  I  will  not  let  it  drop.     You  have  ut- 


IT   WILL,  BE   BETTER,    I   THINK,   TO  ACCEPT  MY   DECISION   AS   FINAL.' 

Page  365. 


AT   THE    OAKS  367 

tered  an  accusation  that  I  cannot  and  will  not 
let  pass.  You  must  say  what  you  meant  by  it." 

"  I  will  say  it  if  you  insist,"  answered  Mar- 
garet, still  preserving  her  exasperating  calm. 

"  I  do  insist.  I  will  not  rest  under  such  an 
accusation.  Go  on !  Tell  me  what  you  meant." 

"  I  will,"  said  Margaret.  "  You  remember 
that  five  years  ago  an  attempt  was  made  to 
open  our  mail  bag  in  some  political  interest. 
Father  appealed  to  the  Government  for  its 
protection,  and  from  that  day  to  this  it  has 
gone  back  and  forth  under  a  United  States 
mail  lock.  In  tampering  with  its  contents  — 
in  abstracting  from  it  letters  addressed  to  me, 
you  —  I  don't  like  to  put  the  matter  into  plain 
words.  Let  me  say  instead  that  you  violated 
the  law  which  renders  the  United  States  mail 
sacred.  I'm  sorry  I  have  had  to  call  your 
attention  to  such  a  matter,  but  you  forced  the 
necessity  upon  me." 

By  this  time  it  was  necessary  to  summon 
maids  and  get  "  Aunt  Betsy "  back  to  bed 
again,  —  genuinely  ill  this  time. 

It  was  not  until  she  was  made  as  comfort- 
able as  circumstances  permitted,  that  Colonel 


368     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

Conway  and  his  daughter  returned  to  the 
library  and  resumed  their  conversation. 

"  Now,  daughter,"  said  the  old  soldier,  "  I 
am  ready  to  do  anything  to  right  this  wrong 
—  anything,  of  course,  that  will  not  compro- 
mise your  aunt." 

"  Father,"  responded  the  girl  with  a  world 
of  tenderness  in  her  voice,  "  you  ought  not  to 
have  anything  to  do  in  the  matter.  It  is  Aunt 
Betsy  who  has  wrought  all  the  mischief.  She 
has  deceived  you;  she  has  deceived  me;  she 
has  deceived  Mr.  Westover.  It  should  be  her 
duty,  not  yours,  to  undo  the  wrong  she  has 
done." 

"  But,  my  dear  daughter,  how  can  she  ? 
She  is  a  woman." 

"  I  know  that,  Father,  and  I  know  our  Vir- 
ginian view  of  such  things.  But  it  is  all 
wrong.  You  men  of  Virginia  have  granted 
to  us  women  a  license  that  ought  not  to  be. 
If  one  of  us  utters  a  slander,  you  hold  your- 
selves responsible  for  it  even  unto  death.  If 
one  of  us  lies  —  it  isn't  a  ladylike  term,  I 
know,  but  it  is  what  I  mean  —  if  one  of  us 
lies  you  hold  yourselves  bound  to  maintain  the 


AT    THE    OAKS  369 

lie  and  answer  for  it,  even  at  the  pistol's  point. 
You  Virginia  gentlemen  insist  upon  only  one 
point  of  honor  for  women.  So  long  as  we 
observe  that,  we  may  lie  and  cheat  and  slander 
at  will  and  you  sustain  us  in  it.  It  is  all  wrong. 
If  a  woman  does  mischief,  she  should  herself 
atone  for  it.  In  this  case  it  is  Aunt  Betsy  who 
has  wrought  the  wrong  and  it  is  Aunt  Betsy 
who  should  undo  it." 

"  But  how  can  she,  dear?  " 

"  By  going  to  Mr.  Westover,  or  writing  to 
him,  and  saying  frankly :  '  I  robbed  the  post 
bag  of  your  letters  to  Margaret  and  her  letters 
to  you.'  That  is  what  a  brave  man  would  do. 
Why  should  not  a  brave  woman  do  the  same  ?  " 

"  But,  daughter,  your  aunt  is  a  lady  and 
excessively  sensitive." 

"  She  forgot  to  be  a  lady  when  she  did  this 
infamous  thing,  and  her  sensitiveness  is  mainly 
a  pretence  assumed  to  play  upon  your  chivalry 
and  to  deceive  you  and  others.  If  she  were 
honest  in  mind,  a  real,  genuine,  conscientious 
sensitiveness  would  prompt  her  to  make  pre- 
cisely the  reparation  I  have  suggested.  As 
she  is  utterly  dishonest  and  dishonorable  in- 


370     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

stead,  I  quite  understand  that  no  force,  moral 
or  physical,  could  ever  compel  her  to  an  act 
of  reparation  like  that." 

"  My  dear,  you  are  very  hard  upon  your 
poor  old  aunt." 

"  Not  at  all,  Father.  Truth  is  as  much  an 
obligation  of  women  as  of  men.  So  is  courage 
of  the  moral  sort.  But  it  is  idle  to  expect  that 
after  generations  in  which  you  gentlemen  of 
Virginia  have  excused  us  from  all  obligations 
except  that  of  chastity.  You  have  assumed 
our  protection,  and  you  have  met  that  obliga- 
tion bravely ;  but  —  well,  I  have  thought  much 
on  that  subject,  and  what  I  have  thought  is  of 
no  consequence.  What  are  you  going  to  do 
by  way  of  righting  the  wrong  Aunt  Betsy  has 
done,  as  you  excuse  her  from  the  obligation  of 
herself  righting  it?  " 

"  I'll  do  anything  you  suggest  —  anything 
that  will  not  compromise  your  aunt.  You  see 
I  must  protect  her." 

"  I  understand.  The  one  who  has  wrought 
the  wrong  must  be  spared  the  consequences. 
The  victims  of  it  must  bear  them.  I  have  noth- 
ing whatever  to  suggest,  Father." 


AT    THE    OAKS  371 

And  with  that  she  advanced,  kissed  him 
tenderly,  said : 

"  Poor,  dear  old  Dad !  "  and  quietly  left  the 
room. 

Then  it  was  that  Colonel  Conway  set  him- 
self to  satisfy  his  daughter's  conscience  and  his 
own  by  writing  a  letter  to  Boyd  Westover. 
Then  it  was  that,  after  repeated  failures,  he 
compromised  with  his  conscience  by  writing 
to  Dr.  Carley  Farnsworth  instead. 

Then  it  was  that  under  Dr.  Carley  Farns- 
worth's  instructions  Millicent  Danvers  sent 
Colonel  Conway  and  Margaret  to  bed. 

"  Aunt  Betsy "  was  already  sleeping  the 
sleep  of  one  who  feels  that  she  has  adroitly 
escaped  uncomfortable  consequences. 


XXXI 

A    SUNSET    INTERVIEW 

THE  days  were  growing  short,  and  so 
when  Jack  Towns  approached  The 
Oaks  that  afternoon,  the  sun  was  set- 
ting and  Millicent  was  watching  it  from  a  little 
hilltop  just  beyond  the  orchard  and  perhaps 
half  a  mile  from  the  house. 

Jack  came  upon  her  there  and  was  fascinated 
with  the  picture  she  presented.  With  her  head 
bare  and  her  hair  in  some  disorder  as  a  result 
of  facing  the  west  wind  too  fearlessly,  she 
wore  upon  her  shoulders  a  voluminous  mass 
of  fleecy  knitted  work  known  in  those  days  as 
a  "  nubia,"  or,  by  those  who  preferred  good 
English  to  very  bad  dog-Latin,  a  "  cloud." 
As  he  approached  from  the  east  he  saw  her 
figure  silhouetted  against  the  glowing  western 
sky,  and  the  grace  of  it  fascinated  him.  It  was 
like  a  great  picture  —  suggesting  one  of  Tur- 
372 


A    SUNSET    INTERVIEW        373 

ner's  interpretations  of  Venice,  with  an  ab- 
sorbing human  interest  added  to  the  glow  and 
glory  of  it. 

For  to  Jack  Towns  the  girl  who  turned  to 
greet  him  as  he  rode  up  was  a  very  absorbing 
human  interest  indeed.  The  hour  he  had 
passed  in  converse  with  her  on  the  day  before, 
had  left  him  with  a  glamor  upon  him  which 
even  his  jaunty  indifference  to  permanent  im- 
pressions could  not  dismiss.  He  had  been 
moved  to  make  this  special  visit  to  The  Oaks 
by  an  irresistible  desire  to  see  more  of  a  young 
woman  whose  superiority  of  mind  and  charac- 
ter was  strongly  impressed  upon  him,  and 
whose  very  peculiarities  —  mainly  due  to  dif- 
ferences of  environment  and  education  —  were 
strangely  appealing  to  his  imagination. 

Upon  approaching  her  there  upon  the  little, 
sun  illumined  hilltop,  he  dismounted,  and,  with 
bridle  rein  over  his  arm,  joined  her  in  admi- 
ration of  the  glowing  sunset. 

After  the  first  greetings  were  over  she  said : 

"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Towns,  I  think  that  is 
where  your  chivalry  comes  from?"  And  as 
she  said  it,  she  waved  her  hand  toward  the 


374     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

horizon  with  its  gold  and  purple,  intermingled 
with  pinks  and  blues  and  exquisite  greens  that 
the  dyer's  art  has  never  matched. 

"  I  mean,"  she  added  without  waiting  to  be 
asked  for  an  explanation,  "  that  you  Virgin- 
ians are  inspired  with  gentleness  and  chivalry 
by  the  quality  of  the  climate  in  which  you  live, 
and  that  your  sunsets  give  color  to  your  imag- 
inings of  courage,  optimism,  and  high  en- 
deavor." 

"  I  doff  my  hat  in  acknowledgement  of  the 
double  compliment,"  he  said,  "  to  our  climate 
and  to  our  manhood.  But  surely  fine  sunsets 
are  not  our  exclusive  possession.  You  must 
have  such  at  the  North  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  —  not  often.  They  are  so  rare 
indeed  that  we  make  note  of  them  and  recall 
them  afterwards  as  pleasant  memories." 

"  But  isn't  that  because  you  live  in  a  large 
city  where  the  vapors  of  industry  cloud  the 
sky  and  shut  out  nature's  displays  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  live  in  a  large  city,  Mr.  Towns, 
except  for  the  two  or  three  worst  months  of 
the  year,  and  not  always  even  then.  I  live  on 
the  '  blue  hills  of  Milton/  My  father  has  a 


HE   DISMOUNTED,    AND,    WITH   HIS   BRIDLE   REIN   OVER   HIS   ARM, 

JOINED  HER. — Page  373. 


A    SUNSET    INTERVIEW        375 

country  place  there,  and  since  he  has  grown 
old  enough  to  relax  a  little  in  his  business  en- 
terprises, we  live  there  almost  all  the  year 
round.  So  you  see  I  know  our  climate  quite 
irrespective  of  the  factory  chimneys  and  their 
fumes.  The  sunset  is  dying  out.  I  don't  like 
to  see  the  death  of  beauty  or  grandeur  or  glory 
of  any  kind.  Let's  turn  our  faces  toward  the 
house." 

As  they  turned  Jack  Towns  in  his  own  mind 
formulated  his  impressions  in  this  wise: 

"  Here  is  a  young  woman  who  can  think  for 
herself  and  without  any  regard  whatever  for 
the  conventions  of  thought;  she  is  inspired 
with  an  appreciation  of  truth  and  beauty,  which 
is  only  another  way  of  saying  that  she  is  a  poet 
in  her  soul  —  thank  God  she  is  not  a  poet  in 
the  magazines,  for  that  would  be  dreadful. 
She  has  common  sense,  too,  in  an  uncommon 
abundance.  Jack  Towns,  you  are  falling 
in  love  in  a  way  you  never  dreamed  of  be- 
fore, and  the  fact  doesn't  alarm  you  in  the 
least." 

As  his  meditations  kept  him  silent  for  a 
longer  time  than  is  usual  when  youth  and 


376     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

beauty  walk  together  in  the  gloaming,  Millicent 
was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  I  wish  you  could  know  our  '  blue  hills  of 
Milton.'  They  have  some  attractions  of  their 
own." 

"  They  certainly  have,"  he  answered.  "  I 
know  them  —  at  least  in  a  small  way." 

"Why,  how  did  that  come  about?"  she 
asked  in  surprise.  "  I  understood  you  to  say 
you  were  never  in  Boston  but  once." 

"  *  And  that  same  is  thrue  for  you,'  as  my 
Irish  office  attendant  would  say.  I  was  never 
in  Boston  until  a  few  weeks  ago,  when  I  went 
thither  to  arrange  some  financial  affairs  for 
a  client  of  mine  "  —  he  did  not  mention  West- 
over's  name.  "  I  had  some  negotiations  with 
a  banking  firm  there,  and  the  head  of  the  estab- 
lishment was  exceedingly  courteous  to  me.  He 
took  me  to  his  country  place  to  spend  the  Sun- 
day. By  a  curious  coincidence,  his  surname  is 
the  same  as  yours  —  Danvers.  He's  the  head 
of  the  banking  house  of  Danvers,  Appleton  and 
Went  worth.  I  wonder  if  by  any  chance  he's 
a  relative  of  yours.  At  any  rate  he  deserves 
to  be.  For  a  more  courtly  gentleman  I  have 


A    SUNSET    INTERVIEW        377 

never  met.  He's  the  sort  of  educated,  refined, 
polished,  considerate  person  that  only  three 
States  in  this  Union  produce,  so  far  as  I  have 
been  able  to  observe." 

"  Which    are    the    three    States,    please,  - 
that  is  to  say,   if  you  are   free  to  designate 
them?" 

"  Massachusetts,  Virginia,  and  South  Caro- 
lina. Mind,  I  don't  say  that  such  gentlemen 
are  not  found  in  other  States.  It  is  only  that 
those  of  them  whom  I  have  personally  met  have 
happened  to  be  sons  of  one  or  other  of  the 
three  States  mentioned." 

"  I  suppose  there  is  a  reason  for  that,"  an- 
swered Millicent. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  inquired  in  answer. 

"  They  are  the  three  oldest  commonwealths," 
she  answered,  "  and  the  three  most  conserva- 
tive. You  have  a  saying  here  in  Virginia  — 
a  true  saying,  I  think  —  that  '  it  takes  three 
generations  to  make  a  gentleman.'  The  three 
States  you  have  named  have  lived  their  own 
lives  for  a  good  many  more  than  three  genera- 
tions, and  so  they  have  had  time  to  make  gen- 
tlemen: Still  —  " 


378     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

She  did  not  continue  her  sentence,  till  Towns 
urged  her  to  do  so.  Then  she  said : 

"  I  was  going  to  say  that  about  the  most 
perfect  gentleman  I  ever  met  was  Jake  Green- 
field, a  Vermonter,  without  education  beyond 
what  he  called  the  '  rujimenteries,'  whom  I  met 
in  the  Rocky  Mountains." 

"  Tell  me  about  him,"  implored  Jack,  saying 
nothing  of  his  own  acquaintance  with  Jake, 
who  had  been  his  companion  and  shrewd  ad- 
viser during  his  stay  in  the  Rocky  Mountains 
in  Boyd  Westover's  interest.  "  Tell  me  about 
him." 

"  I  will,"  she  answered.  "  I  am  always 
pleased  to  celebrate  his  virtues.  Jake  is  igno- 
rant, unfamiliar  with  the  ways  of  society,  and 
wholly  unformed  as  to  his  manners,  but  he  is 
instinctively  a  gentleman.  He  habitually  eats 
with  his  knife  —  a  dirk-like  thing  that  he  car- 
ries in  his  belt.  He  has  no  hesitation  about 
sitting  at  table  and  picking  his  teeth  with  a 
fork.  It  never  occurs  to  him  to  apologize  for 
lighting  his  pipe  at  table  or  quitting  the  com- 
pany before  the  others  have  done.  None  of 
the  conventions  of  civilized  life  have  dawned 


A    SUNSET    INTERVIEW        379 

upon  his  intelligence  as  matters  worthy  of  at- 
tention. When  I  knew  him,  if  a  single  pie  sat 
before  him  he  would  carefully  count  noses  and 
divide  it  equally;  but  if  the  table  were  well 
dotted  with  pies  he  would  seize  upon  the  one 
nearest  him  and  devour  it  from  his  hand  with- 
out enlisting  the  services  of  knife  or  fork  in 
aid  of  the  process. 

"  I  met  him  in  the  Rocky  Mountains  where 
my  father  had  some  mining  interests,  and  I 
was  a  good  deal  distressed  and  disgusted  by 
his  lack  of  manners  until  I  came  to  know  the 
real  man  who  lived  under  so  rough  an  exte- 
rior." 

"  How  did  that  come  about  ?  Tell  me, 
please,"  said  Jack  Towns  as  he  handed  his 
companion  up  the  two  or  three  steps  that  led 
to  the  porch. 

"  It  was  a  rather  thrilling  experience,"  she 
answered,  "  at  least  in  its  beginning.  I  was 
only  a  girl  then  of  eighteen  or  nineteen.  I  had 
gone  to  the  Rockies  with  my  father  for  the 
sake  of  *  roughing  it/  as  they  say  out  there, 
and  enjoying  the  out-of-door  life.  I  was  in 
the  habit  of  riding  alone,  anywhere  I  pleased, 


380      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

for  the  region  was  a  wilderness  and  nobody 
lived  in  it  except  a  few  surface  miners.  One 
day  I  rode  away  till  I  came  to  a  little  stream, 
a  few  inches  deep,  which  was  crossed  by  a  ford. 
The  road  to  and  from  the  stream  had  been  cut 
by  nature  or  by  man,  through  bluff  banks, 
twenty  feet  high.  I  crossed  the  stream, 
scarcely  wetting  the  fetlocks  of  my  horse.  I 
rode  up  through  the  cut  on  the  other  side  to 
the  high  ground  above,  and  thence  on  through 
a  delightfully  wild  region,  until  presently  it 
began  to  rain  in  that  sudden  and  torrential 
way  that  belongs  to  the  Rocky  Mountains.  I 
turned  my  horse  about  and  trotted  him  some- 
what hurriedly  toward  the  ford  I  had  crossed. 
When  I  got  there  I  found  the  trickling  little 
brook  swollen  to  a  mountain  torrent,  but  I 
did  not  recognize  the  change  as  a  matter  of 
consequence.  I  saw  that  the  water  had  risen, 
but  to  me  that  meant  only  that  where  I  had  had 
to  make  my  horse  wade  fetlock  deep  before,  I 
must  make  him  wade  knee  deep  now.  I  pushed 
him  into  the  stream  and  almost  instantly  he  was 
swept  from  his  footing.  The  depth  required 
swimming,  and  the  onrush  of  the  waters  was 


A    SUNSET    INTERVIEW        381 

so  great  that  swimming  across  the  stream  was 
impossible.  The  horse  made  a  gallant  struggle 
to  reach  the  other  side  within  the  roadway 
space,  but  he  was  swept  away  down  stream.  I 
was  afloat  on  his  back,  imprisoned  as  it  were 
between  two  perpendicular  bluffs  that  offered 
no  point  of  possible  landing  or  rescue. 

"  Just  as  I  fully  realized  my  situation  Jake 
Greenfield,  mounted  upon  a  strong  horse,  ap- 
peared on  the  bank  above. 

"  '  Hold  on  for  your  life !  '  he  cried  to  me, 
*  an'  I'll  be  with  you  in  half  a  minute/  With 
that  he  turned  his  horse's  head  and  rode  away 
for  thirty  or  forty  paces.  Then,  suddenly  turn- 
ing about,  he  rode  straight  toward  the  bluff, 
digging  spurs  into  his  horse's  flanks  at  every 
step,  and  lashing  his  rumps  with  a  black  snake 
whip  by  way  of  making  sure  that  he  should 
not  refuse  the  leap.  A  moment  later  there  was 
a  splash  and  a  struggle  in  the  water.  Jake 
Greenfield's  horse  had  leaped  into  the  stream 
from  the  bluff  twenty  feet  or  more  above,  with 
Jake  Greenfield  on  his  back,  and  the  two  had 
sunk  beneath  the  flood  within  a  few  feet  of  me 
as  I  clung  to  my  horse. 


382      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  After  a  few  moments  both  came  to  the  sur- 
face, and  the  snortings  of  the  horse  indicated 
that  his  breathing  capacity  was  impaired.  By 
way  of  sparing  him  Jake  slipped  off  the  saddle 
and  took  hold  of  a  stirrup  strap  as  a  towing 
line.  But  his  poor  horse's  powers  were  ex- 
hausted and  he  could  sustain  himself  no  longer. 
He  gave  up  the  struggle  and  sank  beneath  the 
flood,  a  martyr  to  the  duty  he  owed  to  his 
master  —  man.  Pardon  me,  I'm  making  a 
long  story  of  this,  but  the  details  interest  me 
so." 

"  They  interest  me,  too,"  quickly  responded 
her  companion.  "  You  cannot  narrate  them  in 
too  minute  detail  to  please  me.  I  could  listen 
all  night  to  the  story  Go  on,  please." 

"  Well,  Jake  continued  to  swim  until  pres- 
ently he  caught  my  horse's  tail  and  used  it  as 
a  means  of  keeping  up  with  me.  Then  he 
said: 

"  '  Turn  him  to  the  right !  Keep  close  in 
shore.  There's  a  little  break  in  the  bluffs  just 
ahead,  and  may  be  we  can  make  it!  More  to 
the  right!  Closer  in  shore!  There!  There's 
the  break.  Make  him  catch  bottom  there  if 


A    SUNSET    INTERVIEW        383 

you  can.'  You  see,  Mr.  Towns,  every  word 
spoken  at  that  time  was  burned  into  my  mem- 
ory, and  I  recall  every  detail  as  vividly  as  if 
the  thing  had  happened  yesterday,  or  even  to- 
day. 

"  I  succeeded  in  '  beaching  '  my  horse  at  that 
little  break  in  the  bank.  It  was  literally  like 
beaching  him,  for  no  sooner  had  he  taken 
three  or  four  steps  through  shoaling  water 
toward  the  land,  than  he  lay  down,  utterly 
exhausted." 

Here  the  girl  stopped  in  her  narrative,  as  if 
it  had  been  done.  Jack  Towns  had  no  mind 
thus  to  lose  the  climax. 

"  You  haven't  told  me  yet  in  what  way  Jake 
proved  himself  a  gentleman." 

:<  That  is  true,"  she  answered,  "  and  it  was 
that  that  I  set  out  to  tell  you.  Somehow  hero- 
ism always  appeals  to  me,  and  in  telling  you 
of  Jake's  heroism  I  forgot  the  other  end  of 
the  story.  I  was  soaked  through,  of  course, 
and  chilled  to  the  bone.  So  Jake  took  me  by 
the  arm  —  he  wanted  to  take  me  on  his  back 
but  I  wouldn't  let  him  —  and  hurried  me  to 
one  of  his  cabins.  You  see,  as  caretaker  of 


384     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

the  mining  lands,  he  had  several  cabins,  scat- 
tered about  over  them.  He  told  me  there  was 
a  motherly  old  squaw  there  who  would  look 
after  me,  but  when  we  got  there  the  squaw, 
after  the  manner  of  her  race,  had  wandered 
away  somewhere  and  was  not  likely  to  return. 
Jake  built  a  big  fire  in  the  cabin  chimney,  and 
then  went  outside,  telling  me  to  '  shuck  off 
them  soakin'  clothes  '  and  wrap  myself  up  in 
the  quilts  that  covered  the  sole  orderly  bed  in 
the  place.  As  I  did  so  I  bethought  me  of  the 
conventionalities,  and  when  Jake  came  back  to 
cook  my  supper  and  dry  my  clothes,  I  protested 
that  I  could  not  consent  to  stay  there  alone,  and 
without  even  a  squaw  to  sustain  my  dignity. 
I  simply  must  go  to  my  father,  I  said,  and  when 
he  objected  that  the  mountain  torrent  lay  be- 
tween and  was  by  this  time  twenty-fold  fiercer 
in  its  fury  than  when  I  had  dared  it  before,  I 
declared  that  it  made  no  difference ;  that  at  all 
hazards  I  must  make  my  way  to  my  father's 
quarters  that  night.  By  way  of  making  the 
matter  impersonal  and  in  that  way  sparing  his 
feelings,  I  dwelt  upon  the  anxiety  my  father 
must  feel  for  me.  I  think  Jake  understood  my 


A    SUNSET    INTERVIEW        385 

real  objection  to  the  situation.  Indeed  I  know 
he  did,  for  by  way  of  reply  he  said : 

"  '  Ef  you  only  could  rest  quiet  here  an'  not 
worrit  overmuch,  I've  been  a-plannin'  to  go  up 
the  mountain  to  where  the  stream  don't  'mount 
to  nothin',  an1  cross  it  an'  go  down  an'  tell  Mr. 
Danvers  as  how  you  is  safe  an'  sound  never- 
theless of  your  bein'  tired  out  an'  chilly  an'  all 
that.  Ef  you  kin  spare  me,  I'd  like  to  do  that.' 

"  Not  at  all  realizing  the  fact  that  that  tor- 
rent had  its  beginning  twenty  miles  away  and 
in  mountains  so  precipitous  that  no  man  could 
scale  them,  I  gave  eager  consent  to  his  pro- 
posal, and  after  preparing  such  supper  as  he 
could  for  me,  the  devoted  fellow  —  no,  the 
chivalric  gentleman,  I  mean  —  set  forth  in  the 
torrential  rain.  I  learned  afterwards  that  he 
toiled  up  the  stream  for  six  miles,  plunged  into 
it  and  the  darkness,  breasted  his  way  across  it 
as  it  swept  him  down  its  resistless  current,  and 
with  difficulty  effected  a  landing  on  the  oppo- 
site side  four  miles  below  his  starting  point. 
Thence  he  trudged  through  the  darkness  and 
the  rain  to  my  father's  quarters,  where  rescue 
parties  were  forming  to  hunt  for  me.  That's 


386     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

the  story.  Don't  you  agree  with  me  that  Jake's 
a  gentleman  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word  ?  " 

"  All  that  is  what  I  should  have  expected  of 
Jake,"  answered  the  young  man.  "  You  see 
I've  just  returned  from  that  region,  and  dur- 
ing my  stay  there  I  was  closely  associated  with 
him/' 

The  girl  uttered  a  little  exclamation  of  as- 
tonishment; then,  with  that  perfect  self-pos- 
session which  Jack  Towns  had  found  to  be  the 
most  fascinating  thing  about  her,  she  added : 

"  Confidence  deserves  confidence  in  return, 
and  before  you  go,"  for  Jack  had  risen  and 
the  two  were  advancing  toward  his  restless, 
pawing  horse,  "  it  seems  only  fair  to  tell  you 
that  what  you  have  said  of  the  Boston  banker 
who  entertained  you  over  Sunday  has  been 
very  gratifying  to  me,  for  the  reason  that  the 
gentleman  concerned  is  my  father,  and  the 
house  you  found  so  hospitable  is  my  home.  I 
sincerely  hope  you'll  have  other  occasions  to 
visit  us  there." 

Jack's  instant  thought  was : 

"  I'll  make  the  occasions,  and  I'll  do  it 
pretty  soon  too,"  but  he  confined  his  speech  to 


A    SUNSET    INTERVIEW        387 

the  courtesies  of  the  moment,  and  a  minute 
later  he  was  riding  at  half  speed  toward  Wana- 
lah,  wondering  if  his  absence  had  kept  supper 
waiting,  and  not  caring  in  the  least  whether  it 
had  done  so  or  not. 


XXXII 

WHAT    HAPPENED   AT    FIGHTING    CREEK 

IN  Virginia  in  the  late  fifties  there  was  no 
question  of  principle  or  policy  or  anything 
else  at  issue  between  the  Whig  and  Demo- 
cratic parties.     Even  in  national  politics  there 
was    none.      The    Whigs    were    supposed    to 
represent   tariff   protection    and   internal   im- 
provements.    The  Democrats  stood  for  free 
trade  and  sailors'  rights,  but  neither  the  one  nor 
the  other  of  these  cries  represented  anything 
vital,  any  policy  that  was  pending. 

In  Virginia  the  instinct  of  self-preservation, 
awakened  by  hostility  at  the  North  to  the  in- 
stitution of  slavery,  had  stimulated  both  par- 
ties to  an  intemperate,  uncompromising,  re- 
lentless advocacy  of  slavery  as  a  system  right 
in  itself,  —  a  thing  that  nobody  really  believed, 
—  and  whenever  Whig  and  Democrat  met  in 
debate,  the  only  question  between  them  was 
388 


AT    FIGHTING    CREEK          389 

which  could  go  to  the  greatest  extreme  in  that 
direction.  There  were  the  old  antagonisms 
between  the  two  parties.  They  were  still  re- 
membered with  bitterness,  and  men  grew  ex- 
cited and  even  violent  in  their  discussion ;  but 
nobody  on  either  side  could  have  said  what  they 
meant,  for  the  sufficient  reason  that  they  meant 
just  nothing  at  all.  There  was  a  new,  Free 
Soil  party  rapidly  gaining  strength  at  the 
North,  and  by  both  Whigs  and  Democrats  in 
Virginia  that  party  was  regarded  as  the  com- 
mon enemy,  to  be  fought  to  the  death.  But 
while  waiting  for  that,  the  Whigs  and  Demo- 
crats fought  each  other  for  precedence  and 
place. 

Political  speaking  under  such  conditions  was 
apt  to  be  uninteresting  to  others  than  the  speak- 
ers, unless  it  involved  something  of  accidental 
and  unusual  moment.  If  any  speaker  under 
the  excitement  of  perfervid  oratory  happened 
to  use  terms  which  his  adversary  could  con- 
strue to  be  offensive  to  himself,  there  was  in- 
stantly awakened  the  interest  that  pertains  to 
a  quarrel  which  may  presently  ripen  into  a  duel 
or  a  street  fight. 


390 


WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 


Nothing  of  that  kind  occurred  at  Fighting 
Creek  on  the  day  after  Jack  Towns's  visit  to 
Millicent,  but  some  other  things  occurred  that 
gave  peculiar  interest  to  the  occasion.  Carley 
Farnsworth  read  from  the  platform  the  note  in 
which  Colonel  Conway  pledged  himself  to  the 
support  of  Westover's  nomination.  That  in 
itself  was  a  staggering  blow  to  Webb's  candi- 
dacy. As  Foggy,  whose  phrases  were  apt  to 
be  picturesque,  put  the  matter : 

"  It  knocks  the  underpinnin'  out  of  our  cam- 
paign, and  it  looks  to  me,  Webb,  as  if  it  might 
knock  the  stuffin'  out'n  you." 

But  staggering  as  the  announcement  was, 
there  was  far  worse  to  come. 

When  Sam  Butler,  the  Democratic  candidate 
for  Senator,  had  emptied  his  mind  and  mouth 
of  all  the  florid  rhetorical  phrases  he  had  sat 
up  of  nights  to  construct,  he  brought  a  matter 
of  practical  political  importance  to  the  front. 

"  I  have  endeavored  to  show  you,  my  fellow 
citizens,  that  Democratic  principles  ought  to 
triumph  in  this  election;  but  neither  you  nor 
I  can  fail  to  see  that  there  is  no  chance  of  that 
in  this  senatorial  district.  After  consultation 


AT    FIGHTING    CREEK          391 

with  my  friends  and  political  advisers,  I  have 
decided  that  the  issue  lies  solely  between  the 
regular  and  the  independent  Whig  candidates ; 
and  as  between  these  two  I  think  no  Democrat 
can  hesitate  to  choose  Mr.  Boyd  Westover  as 
the  fittest  man  to  represent  us.  I  therefore  re- 
sign my  own  candidacy  in  Mr.  Westover's 
behalf,  and  I  urge  all  my  friends,  all  loyal 
Democrats  in  the  district,  to  vote  for  him.  I 
have  been  moved  to  this  decision  by  impulses 
of  patriotism  and  by  a  sense  of  duty  to  the  dis- 
trict and  to  my  fellow  citizens." 

This  was  a  thunderbolt  out  of  a  clear  sky, 
and  for  a  full  minute  the  crowd  stood  paralyzed 
with  astonishment.  Then  Butler's  most  active 
supporter  —  by  prearrangement  of  course  — 
leaped  to  the  platform  and  cried  out : 

"  Friends,  Democrats,  patriots !  It  occurs  to 
me  that  our  party  in  this  county  has  named  no 
candidate  for  the  lower  house  of  the  Legisla- 
ture. In  order  that  the  Democratic  vote  shall 
not  be  completely  unrecorded,  I  move  that  we 
now  name  Samuel  Butler,  Esq.,  for  that  hon- 
orable place.  His  candidacy  for  that  will  in  no 
way  interfere  with  his  self-sacrificing  decision 


392      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

to  take  himself  out  of  the  senatorial  campaign. 
I  ask  all  Democrats  here  present  to  gather  in 
the  prize  barn  across  the  road,  to  consider  this 
suggestion." 

A  "  prize  barn "  was  one  in  which  there 
were  appliances  for  pressing  leaf  tobacco  into 
hogsheads. 

Ten  minutes  later  it  was  announced  that  the 
late  Democratic  candidate  for  Senator  had 
been  unanimously  nominated  for  the  House  of 
Delegates. 

"  Now  I  know,"  said  Carley  Farnsworth  to 
himself,  "  what  Edgar  Coffey's  message  from 
Judy  to  Butler  meant.  It's  the  shrewdest  bit 
of  play  I  ever  heard  of.  By  securing  his  with- 
drawal from  the  senatorial  contest,  the  Queen 
of  the  Mountains  has  enormously  swelled 
Boyd's  planter  vote.  And  by  way  of  accom- 
plishing that  she  has  promised  the  mountain 
vote  to  Butler  for  the  lower  office,  and  it  will 
elect  him  beyond  a  doubt.  On  the  whole,  I 
reckon  I  won't  explain  the  matter  to  West- 
over.  He's  quixotic,  and  he  knows  nothing  of 
politics.  But,  by  Jove,  it  was  a  master  stroke 
on  Judy's  part." 


AT    FIGHTING    CREEK          393 

That  night  when  Edgar  Coffey  made  his 
report  to  Judy,  telling  her  of  the  adroit  and 
graceful  way  in  which  the  program  had  been 
carried  out  by  Butler,  her  comment  was : 

"  Some  folks  has  more  sense'n  you'd  think." 

When  he  had  told  her  of  the  confidence  with 
which  Webb  was  reckoning  upon  the  mountain 
vote  to  offset  the  loss,  she  added : 

"  An'  some  folks  ain't  got  the  sense  the  law 
allows  'em." 

But  if  Webb  had  less  political  sense  "  than 
the  law  allowed  him,"  there  were  certain  of  his 
followers  who  were  better  endowed.  Foggy, 
in  particular,  realized  the  situation,  and,  by 
way  of  meeting  it,  summoned  Webb  and  a 
dozen  or  so  of  his  immediate  supporters  to  a 
conference  in  the  hostelry  of  a  neighboring 
county  seat. 

There  Foggy  laid  down  the  law  to  the  opti- 
mistic candidate. 

"  These  here  two  happenings,"  he  said, 
"  mean  trouble.  All  the  swell  Whig  planters 
who  were  holding  back  because  of  Colonel  Con- 
way's  stand  will  now  vote  for  Westover,  and 
use  their  influence  to  make  their  overseers  and 


394     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

others  do  the  same.  Every  Democrat  in  the 
district  will  vote  for  him  as  a  matter  of  course. 
They  want  to  beat  the  regular  Whig  nominee, 
and  now  that  they  haven't  a  candidate  of  their 
own,  they'll  vote  for  Westover.  Now  what 
have  we  got  to  meet  all  this  with?  " 

Webb  suggested  the  mountain  vote,  and 
Foggy  instantly  replied: 

"  So  far  as  I  can  see,  we  ain't  got  no  mort- 
gage on  that,  and  if  we  are  to  carry  it  we've 
got  to  go  after  it." 

So  they  went  on  discussing  the  situation, 
ending  by  ordering  a  vigorous  campaign  in  the 
mountains  with  Webb  for  leader  and  Judy 
Peters  as  the  Dominant  Power  to  be  ap- 
proached with  negotiations. 

When  Jack  Towns  heard  of  this  program, 
he  went  to  Carley  Farnsworth  in  some  alarm, 
to  suggest  some  counter  move. 

"  I  am  conducting  this  campaign,"  answered 
the  little  doctor,  "  and  I  am  in  confidential  re- 
lations with  Judy.  I'll  tell  you,  Jack,  but  you 
must  keep  the  secret,  that  it  was  Judy  herself 
who  conceived  and  planned  and  organized 
Boyd's  candidacy.  She  made  one  of  the  best 


AT    FIGHTING    CREEK          395 

diagnoses  I  ever  heard  of  in  his  case,  and  her 
therapeutics  is  matchless.  Let  her  alone.  She 
has  made  up  her  mind  to  elect  Westover  with 
such  a  majority  as  shall  be  convincing  even  to 
him,  and  she  will  do  it  you  may  be  sure.  If 
she  wants  to  see  any  of  us  she'll  have  Edgar 
Coffey  whisper  a  hint  of  her  desire  into  our 
ears.  Until  she  does  that  we  mustn't  interfere. 
She  might  resent  it  as  a  reflection  on  her  skill 
in  political  management.  Now  let  me  drop  a 
hint  into  your  ear.  I  said  just  now  that  I  was 
managing  this  campaign.  That  was  a  vain- 
glorious boast.  I  didn't  persuade  Butler  to  re- 
tire in  Westover's  favor,  but  somebody  ar- 
ranged that.  Have  you  any  idea  who  it  was? 
And  if  at  the  end  of  the  campaign  Butler 
should  find  himself  elected  to  the  lower  house 
of  the  Legislature  by  virtue  of  the  entire  moun- 
tain vote  added  to  the  regular  Democratic  poll 
down  here,  do  you  imagine  for  an  instant  that 
the  result  would  take  him  by  surprise?  Now 
keep  mum  about  all  these  things.  I  am  only 
making  suggestions  by  way  of  preventing  you 
from  making  mistakes.  Don't  say  a  word  to 
Boyd  about  it." 


XXXIII 

CONSPIRACIES 

JACK  TOWNS  was  particularly  pleased 
with    the    reassurance    that    Farnsworth 
gave  him  respecting  the  campaign.    It  set 
him  free.     In  his  loyalty  to  Boyd  Westover  he 
would  have  ridden  all  night  and  all  day  in  aid 
of  his  friend's  election;    but  he  greatly  pre- 
ferred to  go  to  Dr.   Carver's  and  dance  all 
night  with  Millicent. 

In  fact  he  did  very  nearly  that.  He  put  his 
name  down  on  her  card  for  every  set  that 
wasn't  taken  in  advance,  and  he  danced  all  of 
them  but  three  or  four  which  she  elected  to 
"  sit  out."  If  she  had  been  accompanied  by  a 
chaperon,  she  would  have  had  to  restrict  Mr. 
Towns's  allowance  of  sets,  but  chaperons  were 
not  deemed  necessary  for  well-bred  young 
women  in  Virginia.  Such  young  women  were 
supposed  to  know  how  to  behave  properly,  and 
396 


CONSPIRACIES  397 

as  for  protection,  was  not  the  entire  adult  male 
population  ready  and  eager  to  render  it  upon 
occasion  ? 

Moreover,  Jack  Towns  did  not  in  fact  secure 
an  undue  proportion  of  Millicent's  sets,  for  the 
reason  that  all  the  young  men  in  the  company, 
who  managed  to  get  possession  of  her  card  in 
time,  put  their  names  on  it,  for  one  dance  each. 
She  rigidly  restricted  them  to  one.  Perhaps 
she  considered  Jack.  But  she  put  no  restric- 
tion on  Jack  Towns  in  the  matter,  and  Jack 
was  so  ill-mannered  in  his  infatuation  that  he 
asked  no  other  young  woman  for  her  card,  ex- 
cept in  the  case  of  Charlotte  Deane.  Char- 
lotte was  no  longer  as  young  as  she  could  have 
wished,  and  s}ie  was  distinctly  not  beautiful  or 
brilliant.  So  Jack,  observing  that  there  were 
no  throngs  of  young  men  about  her,  asked  for 
her  card  and  put  his  name  down  for  two 
dances. 

For  the  rest,  he  devoted  his  attention  to  Mil- 
licent  Danvers  until  everybody  was  set  wonder- 
ing if  at  last  Jack  Towns  had  really  and  truly 
fallen  in  love.  The  same  question  arose  in 
Jack's  own  mind,  but  he,  at  least,  was  able  to 


398     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

answer  it.  "  Yes,"  he  admitted  to  himself,  "  I 
have  had  many  fleeting  fancies  before,  but  none 
that  resembled  this.  I  am  determined  to  win 
Millicent  Danvers  if  devotion  can  accomplish 
it.  I  never  felt  in  that  way  before.  Always  I 
have  felt,  that  while  one  young  woman  pleased 
me,  there  were  others  who  might  be  equally 
pleasing.  I  don't  feel  so  now.  It  is  Millicent 
Danvers  now,  or  nobody  with  me.  I  wonder 
what  she  will  think  of  my  big,  disorderly  bach- 
elor establishment  if  she  ever  consents  to  be  its 
mistress  ?  I'll  wager  something  handsome  that 
she'll  —  well,  it  will  be  time  enough  to  specu- 
late on  that  when  I  have  won  her.  By  the 
way,  she  would  say  that  differently  — '  when 
I  shall  have  won  her/  Anyhow  my  present 
task  is  to  win  her.  If  I  do  that  she  will  take 
care  of  the  rest.  And  after  all  a  bachelor  es- 
tablishment isn't  a  home.  Just  think  of  the 
difference  between  my  big  house,  where  every- 
thing is  in  chaos,  and  that  home  of  hers 
among  the  blue  hills  of  Milton." 

So  he  went  on,  thinking,  wondering,  specu- 
lating, so  long  as  she  was  fulfilling  an  engage- 
ment to  dance  with  somebody  else  whom  he 


CONSPIRACIES  399 

hated  and  held  in  unmerited  contempt  without 
any  assignable  reason.  And  when  his  own 
turn  came  and  he  danced  with  her,  his  fancies 
floated  before  his  eyes  as  a  dream  pervades  the 
mind,  a  dream  that  so  rejoices  as  to  make  of 
waking  a  calamity. 

Millicent  did  well  whatever  she  did  at  all. 
In  dancing  with  her,  Jack  felt  that  she  simply 
lifted  herself  half  an  inch  or  so  from  the  floor 
and  floated  about  without  again  touching  it. 
It  was  a  delight  to  dance  with  her,  as  every 
young  man  who  had  enjoyed  the  experience 
stood  ready  to  testify,  but  Jack  Towns  rejoiced 
even  more  in  "  sitting  out "  a  set.  For  then, 
with  her  arm  in  his  he  could  promenade  the 
porches,  or  the  pair  could  stroll  out  into  the 
grounds  where  common  prudence  and  courtesy 
required  him  frequently  to  readjust  the  wrap- 
pings that  protected  her  otherwise  bare 
arms  and  shoulders,  or,  better  still,  he  could 
seek  out  a  secluded  nook  in  the  porch  or  else- 
where, where  they  two  might  talk  of  things 
that  held  interest  for  both  of  them  in  com- 
mon. 

It  was  during  one  of  these  confabs,  when 


400     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

they  sat  out  two  dances  in  succession,  that 
Jack  Towns  invited  himself  to  Boston  and  to 
Millicent's  home  in  the  blue  hills  of  Milton. 
It  came  about  in  this  way.  Jack  was  really 
and  earnestly  in  love,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  and  the  impulse  to  tell  Millicent  so  was 
well  nigh  irresistible.  But  Jack  was  a  Vir- 
ginian, and  he  recognized  the  right  of  a  young 
woman  to  be  courted  in  her  own  home.  He 
restrained  his  impulse  of  speech,  therefore,  so 
far  as  open  avowals  were  concerned,  but  his 
utterances,  short  of  a  declaration,  were  such 
as  to  leave  the  young  woman  in  no  doubt  as 
to  his  attitude  and  purpose. 

When  she  spoke  of  her  prospective  home- 
going,  he  asked,  a  little  eagerly  perhaps,  when 
that  was  to  occur.  She  answered : 

"  It  must  be  very  soon  —  as  soon  as  I  shall 
have  done  a  duty  that  rests  upon  me.  I'm 
sorry  Mr.  Boyd  Westover  isn't  here  to-night. 
He  told  me,  when  I  met  him  casually  this 
afternoon,  that  he  was  obliged  to  return  to 
Wanalah." 

"  I  suppose  he  was,"  answered  Jack  Towns 
in  a  peculiarly  inscrutable  tone  that  he  adopted 


CONSPIRACIES  401 

upon  occasion.     "  But  why?     Do  you  particu- 
larly want  to  see  him  ?  " 

'  Yes,  not  only  particularly  but  perempto- 
rily. It  is  a  part  of  the  duty  I  have  set  myself. 
I  cannot  go  back  to  Boston  till  I  do." 

"I  see,"  he  answered.  "If  you  like  I'll 
call  at  The  Oaks  and  ask  you  to  ride  with  me. 
We  can  ride  over  to  Wanalah,  and  I'll  see  to 
it  that  he  shall  be  there  at  the  time." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no !  That  would  never  do. 
There  are  reasons  which  I  cannot  explain,  if 
you'll  excuse  me.  I  must  meet  Mr.  Westover 
casually,  quite  by  accident  as  it  were." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  answered  Jack,  with  all 
the  confidence  he  was  accustomed  to  assume  at 
a  court  trial  when  his  case  was  an  uncertain 
one.  "  I'll  arrange  the  accident  and  create  the 
1  casualty.'  You  have  only  to  respond  favor- 
ably to  the  invitations  you  receive  during  the 
next  few  days.  I'll  take  care  of  the  rest." 

There  was  a  certain  masterful  self-confidence 
in  his  words  and  tone  that  was  somehow  ex- 
ceedingly pleasing  to  Millicent.  She  felt  that 
Jack  Towns  was  a  man  of  limitless  resource, 
a  man  accustomed  to  do  things  and  to  get 


402      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

others  to  do  things,  a  man  to  be  leant  upon 
with  confidence,  and  the  feeling  was  altogether 
comforting.  The  thought  that  floated  vaguely 
through  her  mind,  though  she  shrank  from 
formulating  it,  was  that  if  ever  Jack  Towns 
should  love  a  woman,  that  woman  would  be 
exceedingly  comfortable  in  the  certainty  that 
his  care  of  her  would  be  always  tenderly  solic- 
itous in  its  impulse,  aggressively  masterful  in 
its  manifestation,  and  measurelessly  ingenious 
in  its  devices  of  safety  for  her  against  every 
ill.  If  she  had  permitted  her  thought  to  frame 
itself,  as  she  resolutely  refused  to  do,  it  would 
have  been  to  the  effect  that  he  was  a  man  into 
whose  arms  the  woman  he  loved  might  throw 
herself  in  full  assurance  of  a  welcome  and  in 
trustful  confidence  of  all-loving,  all-daring  pro- 
tection. She  did  not  let  the  thought  formulate 
itself,  but  it  floated  nebulously  in  her  mind, 
which  was  perhaps  even  more  dangerous  —  if 
indeed  there  was  any  danger  involved. 
In  answer  to  his  words  she  said : 
"  You  are  certainly  very  good.  I'll  leave 
it  to  you  to  arrange  for  me,  and  as  soon  as  I 
know  definitely  that  my  duty  is  done,  I  shall 


CONSPIRACIES 


403 


go  back  to  Boston,  —  or  at  least  as  soon  after 
that  as  my  brother  can  come  down  here  to  es- 
cort me.  You  know  the  journey  is  a  trying 
one." 

'  Yes,  I  know.  But  why  trouble  your 
brother  needlessly?  I  shall  be  obliged  to  go 
to  Boston  sometime  soon,  and  if  you  permit, 
I  shall  be  glad  to  be  your  escort." 

Jack  was  not  fibbing.  It  is  true  that  he  had 
no  business  that  required  him  to  visit  Boston, 
and  yet  he  really  felt  it  necessary  for  him  to 
go  thither.  He  had  fully  decided  to  ask  Milli- 
cent  Danvers  to  become  his  wife,  and  he  must 
go  to  Boston  for  that. 

Millicent  was  right  in  saying  that  the  jour- 
ney was  a  trying  one.  In  that  infant  age  of 
railroad  service  -the  trip  from  Richmond  to 
Boston  involved  eight  or  ten  changes  of  cars, 
some  of  them  at  midnight.  There  were  no 
sleeping  cars,  no  parlor  cars,  no  dining  cars, 
no  buffet  cars  —  nothing  in  fact  but  rattletrap 
coaches,  linked  together  with  chains  and  pins 
and  controlled  only  by  hand  brakes.  No  car 
ran  through,  or  further  than  its  own  railway 
terminus.  The  connections  were  never  close, 


404      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

and  for  the  waiting  times  between  there  were 
no  accommodations  other  than  those  which  an 
open  and  often  rain-drenched  railway  platform 
afforded. 

But  there  was  the  question  of  chaperonage 
to  be  considered.  Boston  notions  on  that  sub- 
ject were  different  from  Virginia  notions.  In 
Virginia  it  was  held  that  a  man  in  escort  of  a 
woman  was  in  honor  bound  to  protect  her  not 
only  against  all  others  but  against  himself  as 
well.  He  must  not,  under  such  circumstances, 
permit  his  conversation  even  remotely  to  ap- 
proach the  confines  of  courtship.  He  must 
maintain,  from  beginning  to  end  of  the  escort- 
ing, the  attitude  of  one  performing  a  duty  with 
absolutely  unemotional  and  impersonal  temper. 
The  man  escorting  was  supposed  to  be  a  gen- 
tleman who  would  suffer  no  harm  to  come  to 
the  woman  under  his  escort,  even  if  his  life 
should  be  the  forfeit. 

But  Jack  Towns  understood  the  difference 
between  Northern  and  Southern  manners  in 
that  respect,  and  so,  to  his  offer  of  escort,  he 
promptly  added : 

"  My  good  old  negro  Mammy  will  go  with 


CONSPIRACIES  405 

you,  of  course.  She'll  see  that  you  have  all 
the  comforts  that  are  possible  on  such  a  trip." 

"  But  if  you  take  her  to  Massachusetts  she 
will  be  free,  will  she  not?  "  asked  Millicent. 

"  Free  ?  Yes.  She  is  free  now  to  do  as  she 
pleases,  and  she  regulates  me  with  the  high 
hand,  just  as  she  did  when  I  was  a  baby.  Why 
she  even  dominates  my  dress.  Not  long  ago 
I  came  to  breakfast  with  a  blue  cravat  on,  and 
she  made  me  change  it  on  the  ground  that  I 
had  a  murder  case  to  defend  that  day  and  she 
thought  black  would  be  more  appropriate. 
When  I  get  ready  to  go  to  the  club  in  the  after- 
noon, she  inspects  me,  and  if  any  detail  of  my 
costume  fails  to  meet  the  exigent  requirements 
of  her  code,  I  have  to  make  a  change,  no  mat- 
ter how  hurried  I  am.  Oh,  she's  free.  Why, 
she  took  away  the  breakfast  I  had  ordered 
the  cook  to  prepare  for  me  the  other  day  be- 
cause it  included  fried  eggs,  and  she  was  per- 
suaded that  fried  eggs  didn't  agree  with  me. 
She  is  absolute  mistress  in  my  establishment, 
and  every  darkey  there  recognizes  the  fact. 
Her  authority  is  supreme ;  mine  is  utterly  sub- 
ordinate. If  I  want  any  change  made  in  the 


4o6      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

houehold  arrangements,  I  must  appeal  to  her 
to  order  it.  Fortunately  she  always  gives  the 
order  because  she  still  regards  me  as  her 
'  precious  chile,'  for  whom  everything  must  be 
done,  and  whose  uttermost  whim  is  to  be  grati- 
fied, regardless  of  the  convenience  of  other 
folk,  high  or  low." 

"  But  she  is  a  slave,"  answered  Millicent, 
"  and  —  " 

"  In  a  way,  I  suppose  she  is,"  he  interrupted, 
"  but  all  the  eloquence  of  all  the  orators  of 
Boston  could  not  convince  her  that  her  condi- 
tion in  life  could  be  improved.  She  is  absolute 
mistress  of  an  establishment  and  of  the  poor 
fellow  who  owns  it.  She  has  everything  that 
her  heart  desires,  everything  that  her  imagi- 
nation can  conjure,  up  as  a  want.  Her  present 
is  provided  for,  and  her  old  age  is  secure.  I 
don't  know  any  device  of  freedom  that  can 
match  that." 

"  Neither  do  I,"  Millicent  answered ;  "  but 
I  cannot  approve  slavery  as  an  institution.  I 
am  prejudiced,  perhaps,  but  —  " 

"  I  am  not  prejudiced,"  he  answered,  "  but 
I  thoroughly  agree  with  your  dislike  of  slavery 


CONSPIRACIES 


407 


as  an  institution.  All  our  great  Virginians, 
Thomas  Jefferson,  John  Randolph,  George 
Wythe,  Henry  Clay,  and  the  rest,  have  re- 
garded the  institution  as  an  inherited  evil  to 
be  got  rid  of  in  any  way  that  might  be  prac- 
ticable, in  any  way  that  might  give  to  the  ne- 
groes a  chance  to  become  self-supporting  citi- 
zens. Thomas  Jefferson  put  the  Virginian 
thought  into  an  apt  phrase  when  he  said  that 
in  freeing  the  negroes  we  must  not  '  arm  them 
with  freedom  and  a  dagger.'  He  might  have 
added,  as  many  Virginians  have  done  in  prac- 
tice, that  we  must  arm  them  with  a  hoe  and 
a  plow." 

"  I  see,"  she  said,  "  and  history  teaches  us 
that  Virginia  has  done  more  for  the  restriction 
of  slavery  than  any  other  State.  It  was  in  her 
cession  of  the  Northwest  territory  that  a  clause 
was  written  forever  excluding  slavery  from 
that  region;  and  we  cannot  forget  that  in  the 
convention  which  framed  the  constitution,  the 
Virginia  delegates  fought  vigorously  for  a  pro- 
vision to  stop  the  African  slave  trade  in  the 
year  1800,  and  the  New  England  delegates 
fought  to  continue  it  for  eight  years  longer. 


4o8      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

I  think  these  things  are  not  understood,  and 
I  think  I  sympathize  with  your  Virginian  re- 
sentment of  outside  interference  by  people  who 
do  not  understand.  At  any  rate  I  shall  carry 
back  to  Boston  with  me  a  very  different  im- 
pression of  your  attitude  from  that  which  I 
had  before.  I  shall  be  honored  to  have  you 
for  my  escort,  Mr.  Towns,  and  delighted  to 
be  coddled  all  the  way  home  by  your  dear  old 
Mammy." 

At  that  moment  one  of  the  young  men  who 
had  secured  a  place  on  Millicent's  card  came  to 
claim  his  dance,  and  the  conversation  was  at 
an  end. 

But  Jack  Towns  had  a  problem  to  solve. 
He  had  promised  to  bring  Millicent  and  West- 
over  together  without  seeming  intention,  and 
he  did  not  know  how  he  was  to  do  it.  Sud- 
denly a  thought  came  to  him,  and,  as  he  had 
exhausted  his  claim  upon  Millicent's  dancing 
card,  he  took  French  leave,  mounted  his  mare 
and  set  off  for  Chinquapin  Knob,  whither 
Carley  Farnsworth  had  preceded  him  many 
hours  before.  He  arrived  there  about  break- 
fast time  and  entered  at  once  into  negotiations. 


CONSPIRACIES  409 

Carley  Farnsworth,  as  Jack  Towns  knew, 
was  in  close  touch  with  Judy  Peters ;  for  these 
two  friends  of  Boyd  Westover  had  many  con- 
fidences with  respect  to  the  campaign,  of  which 
Westover  himself  knew  nothing,  and  Towns 
had  learned  all  about  Judy's  attitude  and  initia- 
tive in  Boyd's  campaign. 

"  Of  course  Boyd's  election  is  secure,"  said 
Jack,  as  he  buttered  a  slice  of  the  hot  break- 
fast bread;  "and  now  that  Butler  has  with- 
drawn and  Colonel  Conway  has  endorsed  his 
candidacy,  his  support  will  include  a  large  ma- 
jority of  the  vote  down  here." 

"  Yes,  and  that  is  what  Judy  and  I  have 
been  working  for.  Her  influence  in  the  moun- 
tains, when  she  gets  ready  to  give  the  word, 
will  settle  the  question  of  election.  But  Judy 
is  practising  psychological  therapeutics.  She 
wouldn't  recognize  the  words,  but  they  repre- 
sent the  facts.  Her  sole  interest  in  this  thing 
is  to  brace  Boyd  up  by  showing  him  that  his 
fellow  men  believe  in  him.  To  that  end  she 
has  planned  to  secure  as  heavy  a  vote  for  him 
as  possible  down  here  among  the  planter  peo- 
ple. To  that  end  she  has  held  back  all  intima- 


4io      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

tions  of  her  purpose  in  the  mountains.  To 
that  end  she  arranged  with  Butler  to  withdraw 
from  the  senatorial  contest  and  run  for  the 
lower  house  instead.  Of  course  you  under- 
stand that  she  means  to  elect  him  to  that." 

"  No,  does  she  ?  "  asked  Towns  in  aston- 
ishment. "  I  hadn't  thought  of  that.  How 
astonishing !  " 

"  Well,  it  is  only  a  conjecture  of  mine,  but 
it  is  what  is  going  to  happen.  Judy  always 
pays  her  debts  to  the  last  cent.  In  this  case, 
by  his  own  withdrawal  Butler  throws  every 
Democratic  vote  in  the  district  to  Boyd,  and 
you  don't  imagine,  do  you,  that  he  did  that 
without  prospect  of  a  recompense?  Of  course 
Judy  negotiated  it,  and  it  is  my  conjecture  that 
the  price  she  is  to  pay  is  the  mountain  vote 
for  Butler's  election  to  the  House  of  Delegates, 
which,  with  the  Democratic  vote  down  here, 
will  elect  him.  Of  course  I  know  nothing 
about  the  matter.  It  is  only  that  I  can  see 
through  a  millstone  if  there  is  a  hole  in  it. 
And  besides  I  know  Judy's  ways.  She  doesn't 
care  a  fig  for  this  election  except  to  make  it 
serve  her  purpose  of  setting  Boyd  up  again 


CONSPIRACIES  411 

and  making  him  feel  that  he  is  Westover  of 
Wanalah." 

"I  see,"  answered  Jack;  "  and  the  old 
woman  would  do  anything  in  reason,  I  sup- 
pose, to  aid  in  the  accomplishment  of  that 
purpose?  " 

"  Anything  in  reason  ?  Yes.  And  anything 
out  of  reason  too.  What  is  it  you  have  in 
mind?" 

"  Well,  I  want  Judy  to  give  a  frolic  of  some 
kind,  and  I'll  take  Miss  Danvers  to  it.  Can 
you  arrange  that?  " 

"  Easily,  if  it  is  likely  to  benefit  Boyd.  But 
I  don't  see  —  " 

"  Of  course  you  don't.  But  I  tell  you  it  will 
do  more  for  his  rejuvenation  than  would  his 
unanimous  election  to  the  Senate.  Of  course 
he  must  be  there,  and  so  must  Miss  Danvers. 
I  will  take  care  of  the  rest." 

"What  is  it  you're  up  to,  Jack?"  asked 
Farnsworth  in  not  unnatural  curiosity. 

"  I  shall  not  tell  you,  except  that  I  want 
Miss  Danvers  and  Boyd  Westover  to  meet 
casually.  Besides,  Miss  Danvers  is  an  inter- 
ested and  sympathetic  student  of  Virginia  life, 


4i2      WESTOVER  OF  W  ANAL  AH 

and  I  want  to  show  her  the  mountain  side 
of  it  before  she  goes  back  to  Boston.  How 
soon  can  you  arrange  the  thing,  Carley?  " 

"  Well,  let's  see.  Edgar  Coffey,  who  is  not 
supposed  to  know  me  by  sight  or  by  name  is 
to  be  here  to-night.  He  will  see  Judy  to- 
morrow, some  time,  and  deliver  my  messages 
about  Butler's  withdrawal  and  the  rest  of  it. 
Will  next  Saturday  do  for  the  party  ?  " 
"  Yes,  if  you  can  arrange  it  so  soon." 
"  Judy  does  things  promptly,  when  she  is 
minded  to  do  them  at  all,  and  in  this  case  she 
is  sure  to  be  so  minded.  You  may  safely  in- 
vite Miss  Danvers  to  be  one  of  the  guests  at 
next  Saturday's  frolic.  Now  you  must  go  to 
bed.  You  had  a  hard  day  yesterday,  and  made 
a  brilliant  speech,  and  of  course  you  danced 
all  night  with  Miss  Danvers.  Since  then  you 
have  ridden  fifteen  miles  with  a  load  on  your 
mind.  It  is  time  for  you  to  take  some  rest. 
The  front  room  in  the  west  wing  is  prepared 
for  you.  Go !  " 


XXXIV 

JUDY'S    PLANS    OF    CAMPAIGN 

THE  events  at  Fighting  Creek  threw 
Webb's  political  advisers  into  some- 
thing like  panic.  They  realized  that 
Butler's  withdrawal  and  Colonel  Conway's 
support  of  Westover's  candidacy  would  give 
Westover  a  majority  vote  in  the  piedmont  sec- 
tion of  the  district.  If  Webb  was  to  win  at 
all,  it  must  be  by  securing  the  mountain  vote. 
To  that  end  they  sent  all  their  speakers  into 
the  mountains,  arranging  that  Webb  himself 
should  speak  there  twice  or  thrice  a  day.  He 
was  a  plausible  fellow,  persuasive  in  his  ora- 
tory and  capable  of  verbal  acrobatics  of  a  kind 
likely  to  be  attractive  to  simple  minded  audi- 
ences. But  chiefly,  W7ebb's  backers  relied  upon 
negotiations  with  Judy  Peters,  whose  control 
over  the  mountain  vote  of  her  own  county  was 
almost  absolute,  and  whose  influence  over  the 
413 


4i4      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

vote  in  other  mountain  parts  of  the  district 
was  apt  to  be  controlling  if  she  saw  fit  to  ex- 
ercise it,  as  in  many  cases  she  did  not. 

In  the  present  campaign  Judy  had  given  no 
sign.  Apparently  she  was  altogether  indiffer- 
ent. If  she  should  persist  in  that  indifference, 
then  a  vigorous  speaking  campaign  might  turn 
the  battle;  but  if  she  could  be  induced  to  take 
an  active  interest  in  Webb's  election,  the  re- 
sult would  be  secure. 

So  Webb  and  some  of  his  most  persuasive 
lieutenants  were  set  to  "  arouse  Judy's  inter- 
est." They  visited  her  immediately  after  the 
Fighting  Creek  disaster,  and  told  her  of  the 
danger  that  impended.  She  entertained  them 
with  glorified  fried  chicken,  stewed  shoat,  salt 
pork  with  cream  gravy,  apple  butter,  and  limit- 
less apple  jack,  but  she  declined  to  commit 
herself.  To  all  their  solicitations  she  replied 
in  carefully  equivocal  phrases  that  left  them 
pleased,  encouraged,  but  by  no  means  satis- 
fied. 

"  The  old  gal's  a-goin'  back  on  us,  it's  my 
belief,"  said  Foggy  when  these  results  were 
reported  to  him. 


JUDY'S    PLANS  415 

"  You  are  certainly  mistaken,"  Webb  an- 
swered. "  I  had  a  long,  confidential  talk  with 
her  and  I  came  away  from  the  conference  with 
an  unshakable  conviction  that  she  means  to 
throw  her  uttermost  influence  in  my  favor." 

"  Did  she  say  so  in  plain  words  ?  "  asked 
Foggy. 

"  No,  not  precisely  that,  but  she  certainly 
intended  to  give  me  that  impression.  You 
don't  know  Judy,  or  you  would  understand. 
She  likes  to  keep  one  hanging  on,  as  it  were. 
She  never  commits  herself  by  definite  promises. 
Sometimes  she  doesn't  let  even  her  henchmen 
know  how  they  are  going  to  vote  until  the 
night  before  election.  We  can  safely  trust 
ourselves  in  Judy's  hands." 

"  Well,  I  hope  you're  right,  but  I'd  feel  a 
good  deal  better,"  responded  Foggy,  "  if  we 
had  a  definite  promise." 

No  sooner  was  the  visit  of  the  Webb  forces 
over  than  Judy  turned  to  Sapphira  and  said : 

"  Go  an'  hang  my  red  petticoat  on  the 
frontmost  panel  o'  the  fence,  an'  leave  it 
there." 

"  Is  Edgar  Coffey  a-comin'  long  by  here  this 


4i6      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

evenin'  ?  "  asked  the  girl  who  had  rendered 
this  service  on  several  former  occasions. 

"  Don't  be  too  knowin',  Sapphiry,  an'  don't 
git  yourself  into  a  inquirin'  frame  o'  mind. 
That  there  red  petticoat's  enough  fer  you  to 
think  about  jest  now." 

About  sunset  Edgar  Coffey  came  slouching 
up  the  road,  apparently  intending  to  pass  the 
place  without  stopping,  but  when  he  saw  the 
red  petticoat  hanging  over  the  top  rail  of  the 
fence  he  seemed  suddenly  to  remember  that  he 
wanted  a  drink  of  water  from  Judy's  glacial 
spring,  with  something  to  temper  its  coldness 
perhaps.  So  he  leaped  the  fence,  and  passing 
around  the  house,  toward  the  spring,  con- 
fronted Judy  at  her  back  door.  Quite  casually 
she  invited  him  in,  and  after  her  hospitable 
habit  she  brought  forth  a  decanter  of  apple 
jack  for  his  entertainment. 

"  Now  drink  sparin'-like,  Edgar,"  she  said, 
"  'cause  you's  got  business  to  ten'  to  an'  I 
don't  want  none  o'  that  confusion  o'  tongues 
the  Bible  tells  about.  But  mend  your  drink 
an'  git  over  your  tired  an'  then  I'll  give  you 
your  pinters." 


JUDY'S    PLANS  417 

Edgar  Coffey  was  habitually  a  sober  man. 
That  is  to  say  he  never  drank  liquor  that  he 
must  pay  for;  but  when  the  tipple  cost  him 
nothing  he  was  apt  to  make  up  for  lost  time. 
Judy,  whose  habit  it  was  to  know  all  about 
the  men  she  dealt  with,  knew  this,  and  upon 
occasion  tempered  her  alcoholic  hospitality 
with  prudent  reserve.  If  she  had  had  no  mis- 
sion for  Edgar  Coffey  to  fulfil,  he  might  have 
emptied  the  bottle  without  interference  on  her 
part.  As  it  was,  she  withdrew  the  supply  as 
soon  as  he  had  filled  his  little  tumbler  for  the 
third  time,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  emptied  it 
again  she  addressed  herself  to  the  business  in 
hand. 

"  That  there  William  Wilberforce  Webb  has 
been  here  with  his  gang,  to  'lectioneer  me," 
she  said.  She  would  have  used  some  oppro- 
brious epithet  with  Webb's  name  if  she  could 
have  thought  of  one  that  seemed  to  her  more 
scornful  than  the  man's  own  cumbersome  name 
did. 

"  Yes,  I  knowed  they  was  a-comin',"  an- 
swered Edgar. 

"  Never  mind  what  you  knowed.    Listen  to 


4i8      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

me.  You  is  to  go  an'  git  Morris  Bryant  an5 
Lem  Fulcher,  an'  Wyatt  Fletcher  an'  two  or 
three  others,  an'  'tend  his  speakin'  meetin's, 
specially  them  as  don't  lay  close  to  here  — 
them  as  is  held  in  the  furder  parts  o'  the  moun- 
tings where  may  be  a  word  from  me  don't 
count  for  as  much  as  it  does  round  here." 

"  Is  we  to  raise  a  racket  an'  break  up  the 
meetin's?" 

"  No.  Yous  is  to  be  as  meek  as  Moses,  an' 
ax  questions,  jest  as  ef  you  was  doubtful  like 
an'  a  seekin'  information.  But  you  ain't  to 
ax  William  Wilberforce  Webb  none  o'  the 
questions,  'cause  he  mout  answer  'em  an'  spile 
the  game.  'Tain't  answers  we  want,  but  ef- 
fec's.  You  is  to  ax  everybody  you  see,  what 
that  feller's  wagon-load  o'  name  means.  An' 
you's  to  wonder,  jest  curious  like  whar  he  got 
it  to  tote  round.  An'  then  you  can  sort  o' 
explain  your  curiosity  by  sayin'  you's  heard 
somewhere's  as  how  William  Wilberforce  is 
one  o'  the  biggest  abolitionists,  an'  wonder 
whether  Webb  is  his  nephew  or  his  son,  an'  if 
Webb  ain't  maybe  a  abolitionist  in  disguise, 
a  tryin'  to  git  into  the  Legislatur.  Ef  any- 


JUDY'S    PLANS  419 

body  answers  your  questions  an'  tries  to  ex- 
plain, you  can  jest  say,  '  Well,  I  dunno  nothin' 
'bout  it,  only  it  looks  sort  o'  'spicious  like,'  an' 
go  away  an'  hunt  up  another  crowd.  You 
know  how  to  do  a  sneakin'  thing  like  that, 
Edgar,  better'n  anybody  I  ever  seen,  an'  the 
men  Fs  named  fer  your  feller  sinners  ain't  no 
slouches  at  that  sort  o'  thing  nuther.  You's 
got  no  call  to  argify  or  say  anything  as  any- 
body can  pick  up.  You-all's  business  is  jest 
to  ax  questions,  raise  suspicions  an'  make  im- 
pressions." 

She  chuckled  as  Edgar  winked  at  her  in 
token  of  complete  comprehension,  and  as  she 
did  so  she  muttered : 

"  That  feller's  name'll  be  the  death  of  him 
yit." 

Then  she  added : 

"  Now  you  can  have  another  pull  at  the  apple 
jack,  Edgar,  an'  then  you  must  be  off,  fer 
they's  a  big  Webb  gatherin'  'pinted  fer  to- 
morrer  over  at  Olivet  church,  an'  I  want  all 
you  fellers  to  be  thar." 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Judy,"  said  the  hulking 
mountaineer  as  he  unlimbered  his  legs  and  sat 


420     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

upright  in  his  chair.  "  I's  got  a  message  fer 
you  from  Dr.  Carley  Farnsworth." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  that  fust  off?" 
asked  Judy  almost  angrily. 

"  'Cause  'twouldn't  'a'  been  polite,  like,  tell 
you  was  done  speakin'.  '  Ladies  fust '  is  my 
motto." 

"  All  right.  Limber  up  your  tongue  an'  tell 
me  what  'tis." 

"  Well,  he  says  he'll  cover  all  expenses,  but 
you  is  to  give  a  very  select  —  them  was  his 
words  —  a  very  select  Brunswick  Stew  here 
next  Saturday  an'  let  him  bring  up  a  wagon- 
load  o'  folks  from  down  below.  He  says  it'll 
do  more'n  the  'lection  itself  for  Westover  in 
the  way  you  an'  him  is  a-thinkin'  of.  I  didn't 
ax  him  what  he  meant  by  that,  'cause  he 
seemed  to  think  you'd  know  all  about  it.  Oh, 
he  said  you  must  be  sure  to  send  a  partic'lar 
invite  to  Westover.  He's  to  speak  over  at 
Cob  Station  Friday." 

Judy  received  the  message  placidly,  and, 
without  comment  upon  it,  hurried  Edgar  Cof- 
fey  away  on  his  mission. 

"  Well,"    she    said    to    herself    presently, 


JUDY'S    PLANS  421 

"  Carley  Farnsworth  ain't  no  fool ;  but  I'd 
give  somethin'  purty  to  know  how  he  expects 
me  to  make  a  Brunswick  Stew  this  late  in  the 
fall  when  they  ain't  a  tomato  or  a  ear  o'  green 
corn  left  alive  in  all  the  land." 

Then  suddenly  she  called  for  her  three 
sons,  Daniel  Webster,  Henry  Clay,  and  The- 
onidas,  who  happened  to  be  at  home  at  the 
time. 

"  We's  a  goin'  to  give  a  barbecue  nex'  Sat- 
urday, right  out  in  the  patch  o'  red  oak  an' 
black  gum  woods.  So  you's  got  to  git  to  work. 
Kill  an'  dress  a  shoat  an'  two  lambs  an'  'bout 
a  dozen  chickens,  an'  hang  'em  in  the  spring 
house  to  cool.  Then  you  three  haul  out  the 
lumber  from  the  corn  crib  an'  knock  up  a  lot 
o'  tables.  No,  Daniel  Webster  an'  Henry  Clay 
can  ten'  to  that,  while  Theonidas  digs  the 
roastin'  pits  an'  chops  some  oak  an'  hickory 
wood  to  roast  with.  Chop  it  short,  Theonidas, 
an'  split  it  fine,  so's  it'll  go  to  coals  quick." 

After  she  had  given  these  orders  and  in- 
structed Sapphira  as  to  duties  that  must  de- 
volve on  her,  she  busied  her  mind  with  other 
things  relating  to  the  affair.  First  of  all  she 


422      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

filled  and  lighted  her  pipe  and  sat  down  in  a 
big  rocking  chair  to  "  do  a  little  studyin'." 

"  Very  select/'  she  mused.  "  That  means 
I  mustn't  let  the  fellers  drink  too  much.  I  can 
ten'  to  that,  so  they  ain't  no  bother.  He's  a 
goin'  to  bring  a  lot  o'  stuck-ups  with  him. 
That's  all  right,  an'  I'll  make  'em  think  we's 
purty  nigh  on  to  bein'  sort  o'  civilized  our- 
selves. Le's  see;  Burch  Wrigley  an'  Lewis 
Vance  an'  Jim  Woodson  won't  do.  They'd 
go  round  chawin'  meat  an'  a  holdin'  it  in  their 
han's  what  hain't  been  washed  sence  Noah's 
flood  cleaned  things  up,  like.  Them  fellers 
ain't  to  have  no  invites.  I'll  send  'em  a  feed 
in  a  bucket  instid. 

"  Le'  me  see !  Jim  Wood's  a-goin'  down 
to  the  speakin'  at  Cob  Station,  Friday.  I'll 
tell  him  to  tell  Boyd  to  come  up  here  Friday 
night.  Then  I'll  have  him  on  the  ground  fer 
Saturday.  Oh  say,  Judy,  I'll  send  a  invite  to 
William  Wilberforce  Webb !  It'll  be  good  fun 
to  see  him  when  he  fin's  out  what  sort  o'  party 
I's  got,  an'  oh  Jemimy!  When  he  fin's  Boyd 
here !  An'  jes'  ten  days  'fore  the  'lection  too ! 
It'll  be  fun  all  over  the  woods !  " 


JUDY'S    PLANS  423 

And  Judy  was  so  pleased  with  her  little  de- 
vice for  amusement  that  she  chuckled  over  it 
for  full  ten  minutes  afterward.  She  wound  up 
her  chuckling  with  the  exclamation : 

"  William  Wilberforce  Webb !  Blue  light- 
nin',  what  a  name !  By  the  time  Edgar  Coffey 
an'  them  fellers  is  through  with  him  he'll  wish 
he'd  boxed  up  that  name  an'  put  it  in  his 
cellar  'fore  ever  he  come  up  into  the  mount- 
ings. An'  I'll  string  out  the  whole  o'  that 
name  every  time  I  speak  to  him  on  Satur- 
day." 

Having  thus  settled  upon  her  arrangements 
and  set  them  going,  Judy  turned  her  medita- 
tions into  another  channel. 

"  Of  course  Carley  Farnsworth  knows  what 
he's  about,  but  I  don't.  May  be  I  can  figger 
it  out,  though.  He  sent  word  as  how  this  thing 
would  do  more  good  to  Boyd  than  the  'lection 
itself.  I  reckon  it  somehow  tetches  on  his 
trouble  with  that  gal  what's  been  a  preyin'  on 
his  mind.  I  reckon  that's  it,  an'  Carley  sees 
how  to  make  it  patch  things  up  like.  Course 
that's  it.  They  wouldn't  be  no  sense  in  it  ef 
that  wasn't  the  meanin'.  All  right.  Ef  we 


424     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

can  straighten  things  out,  twix'  Boyd  an'  the 
gal,  they  won't  be  no  more  trouble  o'  no  sort 
'bout  him.  They  ain't  never  no  cause  to  worry 
'bout  a  feller  that's  got  a  big  office  an'  a  little 
gal  all  to  wunst,  I  reckon." 


XXXV 

A    MOUNTAIN    TOP    REVELATION 

THE  barbecue  at  Judy's  was  successful 
in  every  way.    Jack  Towns  and  Car- 
ley   Farnsworth   took   two   crowded 
wagon-loads  of  young  women  up  the  mountain, 
starting  early  in  the  morning,  and  there  were  a 
dozen   or   twenty   young   men   on   horseback 
to  complete  the  piedmont  contingent.     Boyd 
Westover  was  already  at  Judy's,  and  the  Queen 
had  summoned  all  the  presentable  mountain 
folk,  male  and  female,  to  the  feast  and  frolic. 
Millicent  had  begged  Margaret  to  go,  but 
there  were  conclusive  reasons  why  she  should 
not,  some  of  which  she  mentioned  in  excuse 
and  some  of  which  she  forbore  to  mention. 
Her  aunt  was  really  ill,  as  a  result  of  shock. 
Her  father  was  by  no  means  well.     She  her- 
self was  in  distress,  and  above  and  beyond  all, 
she  did  not  wish  to  meet  Boyd  Westover.    She 
425 


426      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

could  conceive  of  nothing  more  embarrassing 
than  a  meeting  with  him  under  the  circum- 
stances. She  did  not  say  so  to  Millicent,  but 
Millicent  understood,  and  Millicent  had  plans 
of  her  own,  in  aid  of  which,  as  Jack  Towns 
had  clearly  set  forth,  to  her,  this  expedition 
had  been  organized. 

Another  absentee,  whose  absence  Judy  re- 
sented rather  angrily  and  vituperatively,  be- 
cause his  absence  robbed  her  of  anticipated  fun, 
was  William  Wilberforce  Webb.  He  was  on 
his  way  to  Judy's  when  he  learned  that  Boyd 
Westover  was  there.  Then  suddenly  he  re- 
membered some  engagement  that  took  him  in 
a  different  direction  and  far  away  from  the 
festivity.  He  sent  an  elaborately  apologetic 
and  rhetorically  grandiloquent  letter  of  apol- 
ogy, which  Judy  did  not  read  further  than  the 
opening  sentences  that  announced  his  inability 
to  be  present. 

Having  dug  so  much  of  meaning  out  of  the 
rubbish  of  words  in  which  it  was  hidden,  she 
muttered : 

"  The  durned  coward !  "  and  cast  the  letter 
into  the  fire. 


A  MOUNTAIN   REVELATION    427 

But  there  was  fun  enough  and  to  spare. 
The  mountaineers  understood  that  this  was  a 
show,  that  they  were  the  performers  and  that 
the  guests  from  the  piedmont  region  were  the 
audience.  They  put  forth  their  utmost  en- 
deavors to  entertain,  and  they  were  abundantly 
successful.  Their  contests  of  strength  and 
agility,  their  exhibitions  of  skill  with  the  rifle, 
in  throwing  "  rocks  "  at  a  minute  mark,  and 
in  other  ways,  won  a  degree  of  applause  that 
might  have  satisfied  even  the  morbid  desires 
of  an  opera  company.* 

Millicent  was  standing  by  Westover's  side, 
talking  of  indifferent  things,  when  some  change 
of  program  in  the  athletics  created  an  unan- 
nounced intermission.  She  seized  upon  the 
occasion  for  the  accomplishment  of  the  pur- 
pose that  had  brought  her  thither. 

"  There  must  be  a  grand  view,"  she  sug- 
gested, "  from  the  top  of  that  rock  up  there." 

"  There  is,"  he  answered,  "  and  I'd  like  you 
to  enjoy  it.  Will  you  mind  walking  —  or  per- 
haps I  should  say  climbing  —  up  there?  " 

She  responded  gladly  and  the  two  set  off. 
The  climb  was  not  an  easy  one,  and  it  was 


428     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

quite  half  an  hour  before  they  reached  the  sum- 
mit. When  they  arrived  there  Westover  led 
his  companion  to  the  best  points  of  observa- 
tion, but  he  was  disappointed  to  find  that  her 
enthusiasm  was  less  than  he  had  hoped. 

"  You  don't  care  much  for  the  views  after 
all,"  he  ventured  to  say,  half  reproachfully. 

"  Yes,  I  do.  Or  rather,  I  should  enjoy  them 
intensely,  if  it  were  not  that  I  have  something 
on  my  mind,  something  that  it  is  my  duty  to 
do  and  that  I  fear  I  shall  go  wrong  in  doing. 
It  was  for  that  that  I  came  up  here  with  you, 
Mr.  Westover,  in  order  that  I  might  talk  with 
you  apart  from  the  crowd  down  there." 

She  paused  timorously,  and  nervously 
stripped  the  glove  she  had  unconsciously  re- 
moved from  her  hand.  By  way  of  encourage- 
ment, Boyd  Westover  said : 

"  Go  on.  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  anything 
you  have  to  tell  me." 

She  remained  meditatively  silent  for  half  a 
minute  more.  Then  she  asked,  with  great, 
open,  honest  eyes  looking  into  his : 

"  Mr.  Westover,  can  you,  do  you  believe  a 
woman  —  in  the  same  way  that  you  take  a 


A  MOUNTAIN   REVELATION    429 

man's  word,  I  mean?  If  Mr.  Towns,  or  Dr. 
Farnsworth,  should  solemnly  assure  you  of  the 
perfect  truth  of  anything  they  might  have  to 
say  to  you,  you  would  believe  him  as  implicitly 
as  if  his  statement  were  a  fact  within  your  per- 
sonal knowledge.  Can  you  believe  a  woman's 
solemn  assurance  in  the  same  way  and  to  the 
same  extent?  " 

"  When  you  are  the  woman  making  the 
statement,  yes !  "  he  answered  gallantly,  but 
with  an  assurance  of  sincerity  in  his  voice,  and 
with  a  still  more  emphatic  assurance  of  sin- 
cerity in  the  eyes  that  looked  straight  into  hers. 
"  I  shall  believe  anything  you  tell  me  as  firmly 
as  I  believe  in  my  own  existence,  or  in  the 
stability  of  the  rocks  under  our  feet." 

"  I  thank  you  sincerely,"  she  said,  with  that 
Bostonian  fulness  of  expression  that  had  pe- 
culiarly charmed  all  the  Virginians  who  had 
enjoyed  a  meeting  with  her.  "  Now  I'll  make 
the  statement  that  you  are  to  believe  as  abso- 
lutely true." 

She  paused,  as  if  framing  her  utterance  care- 
fully. After  a  moment  she  said : 

"  In  what  I  am  going  to  say  to  you,  and  in 


430     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

seeking  this  opportunity  to  say  it,  I  do  not 
represent  anybody  but  myself.  Especially  I 
do  not  represent  Margaret  Conway." 

He  started  a  little  at  the  name,  and  she  ob- 
served the  fact,  but  she  went  on,  not  heeding  it. 

"  Indeed  in  telling  you  what  I  am  going  to 
tell  you,  I  am  violating  Margaret's  earnest  and 
express  commands.  Perhaps  I  am  even  vio- 
lating a  confidence  of  friendship.  I  don't 
know,  and  it  makes  no  difference.  It  is  my 
duty  to  tell  you,  and  I'll  do  that  duty  at  all 
hazards.  It  involves  the  life-long  happiness 
or  unhappiness  of  two  persons  whom  I  hold  in 
affectionate  regard." 

By  this  time  Westover,  nervous,  restless, 
troubled  and  enthusiastic  as  he  was,  was 
wrought  up  to  the  verge  of  delirium. 

"  Tell  me !  "  he  cried  earnestly.  "  Tell  me 
quickly!  I  can  endure  the  suspense  no  longer." 

In  reply  the  girl,  who  had  completely  recov- 
ered her  self-control,  said  very  deliberately: 

"  What  I  have  to  tell  you  may  perhaps  ex- 
plain many  things  that  you  have  not  hitherto 
understood.  It  is  this :  the  letters  you  wrote 
to  Margaret  Conway  at  the  time  of  your 


A   MOUNTAIN   REVELATION    431 

trouble  were  never  delivered  to  her ;  the  letters 
she  wrote  to  you  at  that  time  were  never 
posted.  That  is  all." 

"  How  do  you  know  this  ?  "  he  asked,  seiz- 
ing her  by  the  shoulders  as  if  intent  upon  sha- 
king the  answer  out  of  her.  "  Do  you  know 
it  or  is  it  only  conjecture?  Tell  me,  quick, 
how  do  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  the  letters,"  she  answered, 
calmly  enjoying  his  half-mad  excitement. 

"  But  how  do  you  know  mine  were  not  re- 
ceived and  hers  not  mailed?  " 

"  I  have  seen  them,"  she  answered.  "  Yours 
were  not  opened  and  Margaret  had  never  seen 
them.  Hers  were  addressed  and  stamped,  but 
bore  no  postmarks.  Be  perfectly  sure,  Mr. 
Westover,  that  I  know  all  I  say." 

"  But  who  interfered  ?  Why  were  the  letters 
stopped  in  transit  ?  "  he  asked  almost  angrily. 

"  That  I  am  not  free  to  tell  you.  I  am  con- 
cerned only  for  you  and  Margaret.  The  rest 
concerns  another  person,  and  I  have  no 
right  —  " 

"  Was  it  Colonel  Conway  ?    Did  he  - 

"  Mr.  Westover,  you  know  Colonel  Conway. 


432      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

Therefore  you  know  it  was  not  he,  just  as  you 
know  that  he  isn't  a  coward  or  anything  else 
dishonorable.  Now  please  don't  ask  me  any 
further  questions.  I  have  already  violated  ob- 
ligations, I  suppose.  At  any  rate  I  have  put 
you  in  possession  of  the  essential  facts.  The 
rest  lies  with  you.  We  must  go  down  the  hill 
now." 

The  two  started  off  together,  but  before  they 
had  journeyed  far,  Westover  stopped  suddenly 
and,  taking  both  the  girl's  hands  in  his,  said 
fervently : 

"  I  thank  God,  and  I  thank  you,  Millicent 
Danvers.  To  the  end  of  my  life  I  shall  thank 
you.  Now  let  us  be  off,  for  I  must  get  away 
from  here." 

She  did  not  ask  him  why,  but  she  under- 
stood and  approved. 


XXXVI 

THE    MEETING    AT    THE    OAKS 

AS  the  two  neared  the  scene  of  Judy's 
festivities,  Millicent  suddenly  stopped 
and,  looking  straight  into  Westover's 
eyes,  asked : 

"  You  are  very  sure  you  believe  me,  and  that 
I  have  acted  upon  the  prompting  of  conscience 
alone?" 

"  Millicent  Danvers,  I  never  believed  any- 
thing in  my  life  more  confidently  than  I  do 
that." 

"  And  do  you  think  I  have  done  right?  " 

"  Right  ?  Yes.  You  have  saved  two  lives 
from  wreck  and  wretchedness.  Could  any- 
thing be  righter  than  that?  You  have  a  sen- 
sitive conscience;  bid  it  rest  easy  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  a  brave  deed  well  done.  Charles 
Kingsley  says :  '  God  gives  it  to  few  men  to 
carry  a  line  to  a  stranded  ship.'  That  is  what 

433 


434      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

God  has  given  it  to  you  to  do.  Be  sure  I  shall 
not  compromise  you  in  any  way,  and  may  God 
always  bless  you !  " 

Both  were  too  much  overwrought  to  indulge 
in  further  speech.  They  hurried  on  to  the 
house,  and  Boyd  went  instantly  to  Judy,  say- 
ing: 

"  I'm  sorry  to  miss  the  rest  of  the  frolic  and 
especially  the  evening  dance ;  but  I  find  I  must 
leave  immediately." 

"  That's  all  right,  Boyd,  ef  it's  becase  o'  the 
gal,"  answered  Judy  with  womanly  sympathy. 
"  Jest  set  still  here  fer  five  minutes  an'  I'll  have 
Theonidas  bring  your  horse  round  to  the  road 
back  o'  the  house,  so's  nobody'll  see  you  a  set- 
tin'  off.  Say,  Boyd,  that  Boston  gal's  awful 
nice.  I  wish  'twas  her." 

"  Let  Jack  Towns  dance  with  her  to-night, 
Judy,  and  you'll  be  satisfied." 

Five  minutes  later  Westover  was  in  the  sad- 
dle and  hurrying  down  the  mountain  as  rap- 
idly as  his  concern  for  the  welfare  and  the 
bones  of  Rob  Roy  would  permit.  That  enthusi- 
astic quadruped  had  an  unconquerable  pref- 
erence for  the  faster  gaits  familiar  to  horse 


MEETING  AT   THE   OAKS       435 

flesh,  and,  if  left  to  himself,  he  would  have 
gone  at  a  gallop  all  the  way  down  the  moun- 
tain. But  his  master,  with  a  discretion  supe- 
rior to  his,  restrained  him,  permitting  only  a 
trot  on  the  levels  and  compelling  what  the 
horse  evidently  regarded  as  an  absurd  walk 
down  the  steeper  inclines. 

In  spite  of  all  restraints  the  good  horse  car- 
ried him  over  the  twenty-mile  distance  in  little 
more  than  two  hours'  time,  and  it  was  at 
the  gloaming  time  that  he  approached  The 
Oaks. 

He  had  formed  no  plans  when  he  rode  away 
from  Judy  Peters's  place.  His  first  thought 
as  he  went  down  the  mountain  was  that  he 
would  go  to  Wanalah,  write  a  letter  to  Mar- 
garet, enclose  it  in  a  note  to  Colonel  Conway 
and  send  it  by  a  special  messenger.  He  aban- 
doned that  program  promptly,  and  after  fra- 
ming and  rejecting  several  others  of  less  elab- 
orate formality,  he  resolved  to  go  straight  to 
Margaret. 

"  I  have  a  right  to  do  that,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "  Now  that  I  know  what  her  attitude  has 
been  it  is  not  only  my  privilege  but  my  duty 


436      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

to  deal  directly  with  her,  to  tell  her  what  I 
have  learned,  to  tell  her  of  the  misapprehen- 
sion I  have  labored  under,  to  renew  my  suit 
and  to  learn  from  her  lips  what  her  present 
feeling  is.  I  know  that,  already,  but  it  will  be 
reassuring  to  have  her  tell  me  of  it.  God  bless 
that  Boston  girl  and  her  New  England  con- 
science and  her  courage !  For  it  required  cour- 
age of  a  high  order  to  do  what  she  did.  Not 
many  people  would  have  dared  do  it." 

So  thinking  he  rode  into  the  house  grounds 
at  The  Oaks  while  the  last  glow  of  daylight 
was  fading  out  of  the  sunset  side  of  the  sky. 

Seeing  a  young  negro,  he  dismounted  and 
tossed  the  rein  to  the  boy,  saying : 

"  Don't  stable  him ;  just  walk  him  back  and 
forth  till  he  cools  down  and  then  hitch  him 
somewhere  handy;  I  shall  ride  again  pres- 
ently." 

Walking  rapidly  up  the  path  he  stepped  upon 
the  porch,  and  there  met  Margaret  face  to  face 
for  the  first  time  since  he  had  gaily  bidden  her 
adieu  at  midsummer. 

"  Margaret !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Boyd !  "  she  answered,  and  a  moment  later 


"MARGARET!  " 


BOYD!  "—Page  436. 


MEETING  AT   THE   OAKS       437 

he  had  taken  her  in  his  arms  and  caressed  her 
fervently. 

"  You  have  come  at  last !  "  she  said  as  she 
withdrew  herself  from  his  embrace. 

"At  last?"  he  asked  in  answer.  "It  was 
only  two  hours  ago  that  I  learned  that  I  might 
come  at  all.  I  was  twenty  miles  away  then, 
and  I  am  here  now,  here  to  claim  fulfilment 
of  the  most  glorious  promise  a  woman  ever 
made  to  a  man  —  here  to  claim  you,  Mar- 
garet." 

"  I  know,"  she  answered,  as  they  sank  into 
porch  chairs.  "  Don't  let  us  waste  time  in 
explanations,  now  that  they  are  so  utterly  un- 
necessary. Just  let  us  be  happy." 

The  conversation  thus  begun  lasted  until 
near  supper  time.  It  is  not  necessary  to  re- 
port it  for  the  information  of  any  who  have 
been  lovers,  and  as  for  the  rest,  they  would 
never  understand. 

Just  before  the  late  supper  time  Westover 
suddenly  awakened  to  his  duty. 

"  I  must  see  your  father,"  he  said.  "  With- 
out his  permission  I  have  no  right  to  consider 
myself  a  guest  in  his  house." 


438     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

Margaret,  knowing  her  father's  perplexed 
eagerness  to  see  Westover  and  be  reconciled 
with  him,  smiled  as  she  answered: 

"  I'll  send  for  Father." 

She  did  so,  and  presently  the  old  Colonel 
came  limping  into  the  porch.  As  he  ap- 
proached, Margaret  slipped  into  the  house, 
leaving  the  two  men  alone. 

They  greeted  each  other  with  a  cordiality 
that  rendered  all  explanations  and  apologies 
needless,  but  Colonel  Conway  insisted  upon 
explaining  and  apologizing. 

"  I've  been  a  coward,  Boyd !  I've  been  an 
abject  coward." 

"  I  don't  know  any  other  man  living  who 
would  dare  say  that,  Colonel." 

"  Perhaps  not.  No,  I  suppose  not.  Still 
it  is  true,  and  I'm  profoundly  ashamed  of  it." 

"  Now  my  dear  Colonel  Conway,"  inter- 
jected Westover,  "  let  us  not  talk  of  that. 
This  is  the  happiest  hour  of  my  life  and,  I 
hope,  of  Margaret's.  Let  us  not  spoil  it  by 
discussing  disagreeable  things  which  are  com- 
pletely past  and  gone." 

"  But  there  are  some  things  that  I  must 


MEETING  AT  THE  OAKS      439 

explain,  Boyd,  and  you  must  listen  to  me.  I 
ought  to  have  gone  to  you  in  Richmond  at 
the  time  of  your  trouble.  I  didn't,  because 
I  was  forbidden  to  do  so  by  an  authority  which 
I  was  cowardly  enough  to  yield  to.  Margaret 
—  great  woman  that  she  is  —  told  me  then 
I  was  a  coward,  and  she  was  right.  When 
you  came  back  to  Wanalah  my  purpose  was 
to  go  to  you  at  once,  but  the  same  authority 
forbade,  giving  me  a  sufficient  reason  in  the 
fact  that  you  had  written  no  line  to  Mar- 
garet. I  know  better  now,  but  only  within 
the  past  few  days.  Under  that  mistaken  be- 
lief I  refused  to  join  in  your  nomination.  A 
few  days  ago  a  catastrophe  here  revealed  the 
truth  to  both  Margaret  and  me.  She  appealed 
to  me  to  do  what  my  sense  of  honor  might 
suggest.  That  meant  that  I  should  go  to  you 
at  once,  grasp  your  hand,  tell  you  of  the  mis- 
apprehension and  of  the  facts  that  removed 
it,  and  ask  your  pardon.  No,  don't  interrupt. 
You  are  generously  disposed  to  spare  me,  but 
I  shall  not  consent  to  be  spared.  My  first 
impulse  was  to  do  what  Margaret  expected 
of  me.  But  an  appeal  was  made  to  me  to 


440     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

spare  another  —  the  culprit  in  the  case  —  and 
I  weakly  yielded  to  it.  I  compromised  with 
my  conscience  and  my  honor.  I  wrote  to  Dr. 
Farnsworth  the  letter  you  have  doubtless  seen, 
and  I  did  no  more.  It  was  all  cowardice, 
and  I  am  heartily  ashamed  of  it.  Will  you 
forgive  me,  Boyd?  " 

"  Colonel  Conway,"  answered  Boyd  with 
intense  earnestness,  "  no  man  with  a  cowardly 
nerve  in  his  body  could  ever  have  made  the 
manly  self-accusing  apology  you  have  offered 
to  me.  You  grievously  wrong  yourself.  It 
was  not  cowardice  that  restrained  you,  but  a 
tender  and  generous  consideration  for  a  help- 
less person  who  was  entitled  to  every  pro- 
tection you  could  give  her.  Now  let  us  talk 
no  more  of  this!  Let  us  never  refer  to  it! 
Let  it  be  a  dead  thing  of  a  dead  past  —  a  thing 
done  with,  forgotten,  banished  forever  from 
our  minds !  " 

"  You  are  very  generous,"  answered  the 
now  feeble  old  man.  "  But  that  is  not  a  thing 
to  be  wondered  at.  You  are  Westover  of 
Wanalah,  and  for  nearly  two  hundred  years 
that  name  has  stood  for  all  there  is  of  gentle, 


MEETING   AT   THE   OAKS       441 

generous  and  courageous  manhood.  You'll 
stay  to  supper  of  course  ?  " 

"  No,  Colonel.  I  have  much  to  do  to-night. 
I  must  ride  at  once  —  as  soon  as  I  shall  have 
said  '  good  night '  to  Margaret." 

It  took  a  considerable  time  for  the  saying 
of  that  good  night. 

"  I'll  be  over  here  at  ten  o'clock  to-morrow 
morning,  Margaret,"  he  said,  "  and  we'll  go 
for  a  ride.  I'll  have  a  servant  bring  over  a 
young  filly  I  have  in  my  stables,  that  you'll 
be  delighted  to  ride.  She's  spirited,  but  as 
gentle  as  a  zephyr  —  that's  what  I've  named 
her  —  '  Zephyr  '  —  and  her  paces  are  perfect. 
She's  to  be  yours  from  this  time  forth.  I  per- 
sonally educated  her  for  you  last  summer, 
before  —  before  the  trouble  came." 

"  But  to-morrow  is  Sunday ;  aren't  we  to 
go  to  church  ?  " 

"  No.  We  are  going  to  Wanalah,  so  that 
you  may  look  over  the  place  and  see  what  alter- 
ations are  needed.  I  must  tell  you,  Margaret, 
that  an  investment,  —  very  wise  or  very  lucky, 
I  don't  know  which,  —  made  by  my  father  in 
my  name,  has  suddenly  borne  fruit,  making 


442      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

me,  Jack  Towns  says  —  and  he  has  charge  of 
the  business  —  three  times  over  the  richest 
man  in  Virginia.  The  wealth  is  of  no  con- 
sequence in  itself,  but  I  mention  it  so  that  in 
deciding  what  shall  be  done  at  Wanalah  you 
need  have  no  fear  of  expense  before  your 
eyes." 

"  But  church  is  at  Round  Hill,  to-morrow, 
almost  under  our  noses.  If  we  don't  attend, 
what  will  people  say  ?  " 

"  Hang  '  people.'  We  are  '  people  '  now. 
We're  happy  and  we're  going  to  stay  happy. 
And  after  all  what  can  they  say?  They'll  say 
that  Boyd  Westover  and  Margaret  Conway 
are  very  much  in  love  with  each  other,  and 
we  don't  care  to  contradict  that,  do  we  ?  " 

"  I  do  not,"  she  answered. 

"  Neither  do  I.  So  let  them  say  on.  They'll 
wonder  when  it  is  to  be,  and  I'm  wondering 
about  that  myself  now.  When  is  it  to  be, 
Margaret?" 

"  I  don't  know.  Of  course  I  must  have  time 
to  make  a  trousseau." 

"  What  for?  "  he  asked.  "  Hang  the  trous- 
seau, or  make  it  after  we're  married.  What's 


MEETING   AT  THE  OAKS       443 

the  difference?  You've  plenty  of  clothes,  and 
you're  charming  in  any  of  them." 

"  But  Boyd,  dear,  —  " 

"  But  Margaret  dear,"  he  interrupted,  "  you 
see  our  marriage  was  to  have  occurred  in  the 
late  summer  or  early  fall.  It  has  already  been 
unreasonably  delayed.  It  is  nonsense  to  delay 
it  further.  Think  a  little,  and  think  quick,  and 
name  a  day." 

"  If  you  must  have  it  so,  I  suppose  it  must 
be  so.  You  are  the  Master  now.  And  be- 
sides —  " 

She  did  not  finish  her  sentence  till  he  chal- 
lenged it,  saying: 

"  Besides  what,  Margaret?  " 

"  I  was  only  thinking,"  she  answered,  "  that 
I  can't  persuade  Millicent  to  stay  much  longer, 
and  I  do  want  her  to  be  my  first  bridesmaid. 
You  see,  Boyd,  it  isn't  only  that  Fm  very  fond 
of  her  —  I  am  very  grateful  to  her." 

"  So  am  I,"  he  answered  with  emphasis,  but 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other  said  aught  of  the 
occasion  for  gratitude.  They  both  under- 
stood. But  he  eagerly  grasped  at  the  helping 
hand: 


444     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  Then  you  must  name  a  very  early  day, 
or  she  will  have  flitted." 

"  Let  me  see,"  she  said ;  "  the  election  will 
occur  one  week  from  next  Tuesday;  that 
is  ten  days  hence.  Our  wedding  shall  occur 
on  the  day  after  you  are  elected  Senator." 

"  But  suppose  I  should  not  be  elected  ?  " 

"  In  that  case  the  day  will  come  round  just 
the  same,"  she  said ;  "  but  you  will  be  elected. 
I  have  Dr.  Farnsworth's  positive  assurance 
that  you  will  be  elected  by  the  largest  ma- 
jority any  candidate  ever  received  in  this  dis- 
trict, and  Dr.  Farnsworth  is  a  man  who  deals 
exclusively  in  facts,  never  in  conjectures." 

1  Then  you  have  concerned  yourself  about 
my  election  ?  " 

"  How  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  As  I  told 
you  in  the  long  ago,  Boyd,  I  am  not  a  woman 
who  loves  lightly  or  lightly  forgets." 

"  I  know,"  he  answered.  "  Your  father  is 
taking  his  supper  alone.  Go  to  him  at  once. 
I'll  mount  and  away." 


XXXVII 

THE    OLD    CLOCK    TICKS    AGAIN 

"  TTT'S    a    rambling   old   place,"    Westover 
said,     as    he    and     Margaret    strolled 
through  the  vast  spaces  of  the  Wanalah 
rooms  with   their  highly  polished  white  ash 
floors,  their  wealth  of  stoutly  built,  time  dark- 
ened furniture,  their  ancient,  oaken  wainscots 
and  their  hospitably  spacious  fireplaces.     "  I 
suppose  a  modern  judgment  would  say  tear 
it  down  and  build  anew  —  " 

*  Then  the  modern  judgment  shall  have  no 
welcome  when  I  am  mistress  here.  Tear  down 
Wanalah,  with  its  walls  of  thick  masonry,  its 
generously  large  rooms,  and  its  memories? 
Only  a  vandal  would  do  that.  I'll  tell  you, 
Boyd,  there  is  only  one  change  I'd  like  you 
to  make  here." 

"I'll  make  it.     What  is  it?" 
445 


446     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

"  There's  a  beautiful  old  standing  clock  in 
the  dining  room  that  has  never  ticked  since  I 
have  known  Wanalah.  Won't  you  have  some- 
body put  new  works  into  it  and  set  it  going 
again?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  but  it  shall  not  run 
until  you  and  I  return  from  our  wedding  trip 
and  you  enter  the  house  as  its  mistress.  We'll 
go  to  it  together  then  and  set  it  going,  to  mark 
time  in  a  new  era  at  Wanalah." 

"  You  are  very  good  and  thoughtful  and 
tender,  Boyd.  I  suppose  you  are  a  trifle  ro- 
mantic also,  but  I  shall  certainly  not  quarrel 
with  that,  now  or  ever." 

"  Speaking  of  our  wedding  trip,  Margaret," 
he  said  eagerly,  "  what  is  it  to  be  ?  We  can 
go  anywhere  you  like  and  everywhere  you  like 
and  for  as  long  as  you  like." 

"Am  I  really  free  to  choose?"  she  asked, 
looking  into  his  eyes. 

"  Yes,  really  and  absolutely." 

"  What  I  would  like  best,  then,  would  be 
to  go  up  to  that  place  of  yours  in  the  high 
mountains.  It  was  there  that  you  suffered 
most  on  my  account;  I  want  you  to  rejoice 


THE   OLD    CLOCK 


447 


and  be  happy  there,  Boyd,  by  way  of  recom- 
pense." 

"  But  it's  rough  living  up  there,  Margaret ; 
perhaps  you'd  find  it " 

"  I'd  find  it  delightful.  How  could  it  be 
otherwise,  with  just  you  and  me  there?  " 

"  It  shall  be  so  then.  Nothing  could  de- 
light me  more.  I'll  get  Theonidas  to  carry 
my  things  back  up  there  at  once.  They  are 
still  at  Judy's.  And  we'll  take  along  with  us 
whatever  baggage  you  want." 

"  That  will  be  very  little.  It  is  the  air,  the 
sunshine,  the  rain,  the  freedom  and  you,  Boyd, 
that  I  want.  And  besides,  you  know  you  have 
forbidden  me  to  have  a  trousseau.  I'll  be  a 
wood  nymph  or  a  water  witch  or  something 
of  that  sort,  and  such  beings  do  not  bother 
with  baggage,  I  suppose." 

During  the  next  week,  Westover  was  speak- 
ing day  and  night,  all  over  the  district.  He 
really  cared  nothing  for  the  office  he  was  run- 
ning for,  but  it  was  his  temperament  to  do  his 
mightiest  to  win  in  any  contest  in  which  he 
had  a  part,  and  in  this  case  he  had  the  addi- 


448     WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

tional  impulse  to  gratify-  Margaret  by  secur- 
ing the  biggest  majority  possible  for  his  elec- 
tion. 

Meanwhile,  in  his  enthusiasm,  Colonel  Con- 
way  forgot  all  about  his  gout,  and  busied  him- 
self in  the  fulfilment  of  the  promise  he  had 
long  ago  given,  to  fill  The  Oaks  at  the  wed- 
ding time  with  the  most  brilliant  company  the 
country  could  furnish,  and  to  have  feasting 
there  of  a  kind  that  might  make  the  occasion 
memorable.  He  even  made  a  journey  to 
Washington  and  fairly  forced  his  old  com- 
mander in  the  Mexican  War,  General  Scott,  to 
be  a  guest,  honored  and  honoring  the  occasion. 

Judy  Peters  was  also  an  honored  guest. 
When  Westover  learned  at  last  what  part  she 
had  borne  in  his  nomination  and  in  his  cam- 
paign, he  rode  all  the  way  up  to  her  place  to 
persuade  her  to  come.  And  when  the  time 
arrived,  he  sent  the  Wanalah  carriage  to  fetch 
her.  She  appeared  at  the  ceremony,  in  a  gown 
more  gaudily  gorgeous  than  any  that  had  been 
seen  in  that  region  since  "  the  time  whereof 
the  memory  of  man  runneth  not  to  the  con- 
trary." 


THE    OLD    CLOCK  449 

Colonel  Conway  devoted  his  particular  at- 
tention to  her.  Among  other  special  cour- 
tesies he  shared  with  her  a  bottle  of  precious 
old  Madeira  —  too  precious,  as  he  told  her, 
to  be  "  wasted  on  a  lot  of  young  fellows  whose 
palates  are  not  educated  up  to  it." 

She  drank  the  wine  with  relish,  and  after 
the  third  thimbleful  glass  she  gave  judgment. 

"  It's  better  'n  apple  jack,  but  in  the  matter 
o'  taste,  'tain't  quite  up  to  peach  an'  honey, 
is  it  now,  Bob  ?  " 

Since  his  boyhood  nobody  had  ever  ven- 
tured to  address  Colonel  Conway  as  "  Bob," 
but  as  it  came  from  Judy's  barbaric  and  priv- 
ileged lips,  he  rather  liked  it. 

The  wedding  was  held  in  the  early  morn- 
ing because  Boyd  Westover  had  explained, 
without  a  hint  of  whither  they  were  bound, 
that  he  and  Margaret  had  a  long  journey  to 
make  before  nightfall. 

The  wedding  morn  was  on  the  day  follow- 
ing the  election,  and  the  returns  were  all  in. 
Carley  Farnsworth  summarized  them  to  the 
company  by  announcing  that  Westover  was 
elected  by  the  vote  of  more  than  three-fourths 


450      WESTOVER  OF  WANALAH 

and  nearly  four-fifths  of  the  citizens  of  the 
district. 

Then  he  added : 

"  And  Sam  Butler,  Democrat,  is  elected  to 
the  House  of  Delegates,  chiefly  by  the  moun- 
tain vote,  which  seems  to  have  been  pretty 
nearly  solid  for  him." 

Judy  Peters  beamed  upon  Colonel  Conway, 
and  ventured  the  remark : 

"  'Tain't  no  use  a-votin',  Colonel,  ef  you 
don't  stick  together  an'  vote  to  'lect.  That's 
our  way  up  in  the  mountings." 

"Ah,  Judy,"  the  Colonel  replied,  "I'm 
afraid  you're  a  sad  sinner.  I'm  afraid  you 
manipulated  that  vote." 

"  I  ain't  close  acquainted  with  that  big  word 
o5  your'n,  Bob,  but  I  was  purty  nigh  right  in 
my  jedgment  as  to  how  this  here  'lection  was 
a  goin'  to  come  out.  Say,  Bob,  what  d'you 
think  that  there  comb-cut  rooster  William 
Wilberforce  Webb  thinks  of  hisself  by  now? 
I  wonder  ef  he'll  unload  some  o'  that  name?  " 

Westover  and  his  bride  left  as  soon  as  the 
ceremony  was  over,  but  Colonel  Conway  kept 


THE    OLD    CLOCK  451 

the  festivities  going  all  day,   and  there  was 
a  dance  at  night. 

The  occasion  was  rich  in  opportunities  for 
Jack  Towns,  and,  with  the  alert  energy  which 
was  characteristic  of  him,  he  made  the  most 
of  them.  When,  two  days  later,  he  left  for 
Boston  as  Millicent's  escort,  there  was  no 
room  for  doubt  in  anybody's  mind  as  to  the 
outcome  of  his  visit  to  the  blue  hills  of  Mil- 
ton. 

It  was  a  month  later,  and  winter  had  begun, 
when  Westover  and. Margaret  —  just  entering 
the  house  —  went  to  the  clock  and  set  it  going. 
She  said  something  —  no  matter  what.  He 
said  nothing,  but  gathering  her  head  to  his 
breast,  he  caressed  her.  Words  seemed  super- 
fluous. 

THE   END. 


The   Potter  and   the   Clay 

A  Romance  of  To-day 

By  MAUD  HOWARD  PETERSON.    Illustrated  by 
Charlotte  Harding.     J2mo,  decorated  cloth,  $1.50 

A  STRONG   and   impressive   story  —  one   of  the 
most  forceful  of  recent  novels  by  a  new  author 
of  promise  and  ability.     The  motive  is  love  versus 
loyalty;   the   characters   are   alive  and  human;   the 
plot  is  puzzling,  and  the  action  is  remarkably  vivid. 

A   Carolina  Cavalier 

A    Romance    of   the    Revolution 

By  GEORGE  GARY  EGGLESTON.    Illustrated  fay 
C  D.  Williams.     J2mo,  cloth,  rough  edges,  gilt  top,  $  J .50 

THIS  is  a  historical  romance  of  love,  loyalty,  and 
fighting.  The  action  passes  in  South  Carolina 
during  the  stormy  days  of  British  invasion,  in  the 
region  once  made  famous  by  Simms  and  not  touched 
since  his  day.  It  is  full  of  vigor,  plot,  and  action. 
Tories  and  patriots,  war  and  adventure,  love  and 
valor  crowd  its  pages  and  hold  the  reader's  atten- 
tion from  first  to  last. 


Cbe  Cittfe  Green  Door 

By    MART    E.    STONE    BASSETT 

Eight   illustrations    by  Louise    Clarke    and    twenty-five   decorative 

half-tide  pages  by  Ethel  Pearce  Clements 

izmo  Cloth  $1.50 

A  charming  romance  of  the  time  of 
Louis  XIII.  The  door  which 
gives  the  title  to  the  book  leads  to  a 
beautiful  retired  garden  belonging  to  the 
King.  In  this  garden  is  developed  one  of 
the  sweetest  and  tenderest  romances  ever 
told.  The  tone  of  the  book  is  singularly 
pure  and  elevated,  although  its  power  is 
intense. 


"This  is  a  tale  of  limpid  purity  and  sweetness,  which,  although 
its  action  is  developed  amid  the  intrigues  and  deceptions  of  a  corrupt 
French  court,  remains  fine  and  delicate  to  the  end.  There  is 
power  as  well  as  poetry  in  the  little  romance,  so  delicate  in  con- 
ception."—  Chicago  Daily  News. 

"Tender,  sweet,  passionate,  pure ;  a  lily  from  the  garden  of 
loves." — Baltimore  Herald. 

"The  story  is  exquisitely  pure  and  tender,  possessing  a  finished 
daintiness  that  will  charm  all  clean-minded  persons." — Louisville 
Courier-Journal. 

"This  book  carries  with  it  all  the  exhilaration  of  a  beautiful 
nature,  of  flowers,  birds,  and  living  things,  and  the  beauty  of  a 
winsome  personality  of  a  pure,  beautiful  girl.  It  is  a  romance  en- 
tirely of  the  fancy,  but  a  refreshing  one." — Chicago  Tribune. 

"The  little  romance  is  charmingly  wrought,  and  will  be  sure  to 
find  its  way  to  the  heart  of  the  reader." — Boston  Transcript. 

Lothrop,   Lee  &  Shepard  Co. 

BOSTON 


